









liook _. 

('()|)\i1glil N" 


COIA'RIC.HT DKFOSIT. 








» 3 


.,v -^ . ■ 

■ • • .. f . .. ,. 



*f 


•-..-JO. 










’a ' 

*1 •» anr - l - ^■ —■■ ,, -, 

i^-, ;»*!{',< 

' *‘^ 1 ^'*' ‘I* 



r % * 


^>1 




^•T, • » •« 


■:r 






: - . .Tf > 

>* /,>.#! . 
• t s • 







r - ■■ !S!. • j ■ 



.a H . 







\ 



I 



t 

! 


i 














STORIES OF 


EARLY ENGLAND 


RETOLD BY 

E. M. ^ILMOT-BUXTON 

AUTHOR of' 

“ MAKERS OF EUROPE,” “ THE ANCIENT WORLD,” ETC. 
LECTURER IN ENGLISH AT UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, 
ABERYSTWYTH. 


“ Literature^ properly so called^ draws its 'sap from 
the deep soil of human nature's common and ever¬ 
lasting sympathies^ the gathered leaf-mould of 
countless generations^ and not froitt any top- i 

dressing^capriciously scattered over the surface at 
some master's bidding." 

Lowell. 



NEW YORK 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & GO. 



.T^S 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
TwoCoote* R«ce»ve<J 

JUN 211906 

CopyriKhi Entry . 

XXc. No. 

r y /«/ 

COPY B. 



Copyright, 1906, 

By THOMAS A". CROWELL & CO. 


O 


<> 


'• o 


r 




STORIES OF EARLY ENGLAND 












• * 


-‘ * 




.:t 


d ^ I 


‘» 


'■ if* ^ 

t '•. 


« « 






Ar 


ji: 


g^. 



I' 




"0 ’'.ji 




iri. 


< r 


U' 


*v/>: 


■< 5 /-: 

• i ' .f ♦ . 


*-* 


■ ■'- > ^« ■ 


K,‘ 


u 


A !3f t 


P’ - V 

w 




I » 


’> I 












iT-^ 




. “•’^v 





4 ^; 


■'V 

■■ ■ ■; 





_* ■- 

. . > • r' * 

.4 ' 




" ' Vii'V ■- 





.ji t* 


> 1 . - ■, 



Preface 

I T is a well known fact that the only use of 
a preface, or foreword” as our ancestors 
would have called it, is to be skipped. But 
I want to say just a few words to those boys and 
girls into whose hands this little book may fall, 
in order that they may enjoy the reading of the 
stories none the less, and perhaps a little more. 
In the first place, those who read it for pure 
amusement may be interested to know that cen¬ 
turies ago other boys and girls of their own race 
listened to these very same stories, and enjoyed 
them just as, I hope, you will do. I say “ lis¬ 
tened, ” for there were few books in those days, 
and no free libraries or bookshops. Yet there 
were libraries, too, only they were kept packed 
away in one’s head instead of on shelves. And 
really^ it was most convenient; for when we 
move about a good deal we cannot always carry 
with us just the books we want; so the old 
method of keeping a head library ” was a good 


V 


VI 


Preface 


one on occasion. Of course, all heads were not 
equally well stored, and it became the profession 
of men, called at one time “bards,” sometimes 
“scops” or “minstrels,” to go from court to 
court and from district to district, carrying with 
them these libraries of which I spoke. Wher¬ 
ever they went they were treated with much 
honor and consideration, and after supper men 
and women and children would crowd into the 
dimly lighted banquet-halls, and sit on the rush- 
covered floors, listening spellbound to the poems 
and stories which the travelling minstrel recited 
before the lord of the house. Most of these tales 
were in verse, for the reason it was so much 
easier to remember metrical or rhyming lines 
than plain prose. And if a baron were rich 
enough he would keep a minstrel or bard, or 
sometimes several of them, of his own, so that he 
always had his library at hand. 

Now, it seems a pity that the boys and girls of 
the present day should lose the chance of knowing 
these charming tales of olden days because they, 
were told and written down, in what seems to 
them a foreign tongue. The Celtic tales really 
are “foreign ” to English children, for the Eng¬ 
lish language has kept very few of the real 


Preface 


vii 

Celtic words, but those from Old and Middle 
English sources are really in the very same 
tongue that our ancestors talked, in the days 
before the Conquest and in the period about two 
centuries after that event. 

Then I want to say a word to those boys or 
girls who are fond of studying the history of 
literature, I daresay it has happened to 
them in the course of their study to hear or 
read of works which seem by their position in 
literature to be of great importance, but which 
often remain merely names to them. They read, 
for instance, that “ Beowulf” was the first great 
English epic, and probably their teacher or their 
book tells them a little about it—^just enough to 
let them know that Beowulf was a very splen¬ 
did sort of fellow. Then there is generally 
a rather scrappy mention of the English 
Chronicle, as the Storehouse of Old English 
Prose ” and of a collection of Welsh tales called 
the “ Mabinogion.” Any boy or girl who has a 
real taste for literature, as well as a love for stories 
as stories, scents a source of interest and amuse¬ 
ment here, if only he or she knew how to get hold 
of the material. But, hearing that these things 
are “ Anglo-Saxon,” or “ Celtic,” discouragement 



Vlll 


Preface 


follows, and the thing remains a name only, and 
sometimes never anything more to the end of 
life. Well, in these pages will be found some 
at least of these “ names ” in literature with the 
living story itself to explain them ; and I think 
you will all agree that the men of those distant 
days knew how to tell a rousing tale of adventure 
or a mystic tale of fairy love quite as well as, if 
not better than, the writers of to-day. 

Last of all, a word about the sources of these 
tales. The Cattle Raid of Cooley ” belongs to 
a period of Celtic literature just before and just 
after the Christian era. It was not written down 
till the sixth century, and it breathes the simplic¬ 
ity, as well as the primitive passion, of early 
times. For in those days, when wealth consisted 
in flocks and herds, the stealing of a fine bull 
was enough to send two whole districts of a 
-country to open war. Then comes ‘‘ Beowulf,” 
composed probably before the English appeared 
upon our shores in their longboats, but “ edited ” 
by a Christian writer somewhere about the 
eighth century a.d. It is mainly about the 
Geats, or Goths, but the description of the 
scenery is so English that some people think 
that the poet, the '‘scop,” had in mind the 


Preface 


IX 


“ windy nesses ” of Whitby and the “ meres ” of 
Northumberlaml. The “ Children of Lir,” with 
its pathetic touch, takes us back to the days of 
rich myth and folklore. It also was probably 
“ worked up ” by a Christian monk, who intro¬ 
duces with great effect the beginnings of Chris¬ 
tianity in Ireland. ^‘Cynewulf and Cyneherd ” 
is the very earliest piece of English prose in the 
language ; it gives a good idea of the fighting in¬ 
stincts and loyalty of those days. The hand of 
Alfred, the “ scholar-king,” is seen in the trans¬ 
lations of Bede’s History, which gives us the 
quiet story of “ Caedmon,” our earliest poet; and 
in the “ Voyage of Ohthere,” interesting because 
it was probably written down from the lips of 
the voyager himself. 

The Fight of Brihtnoth ” is a stirring poem 
of a battle such as English boys would glory to 
be in the thick of; and “ Cuthbert ” gives a 
pretty legend of the days of Alfred, from the 
** Life of St Cuthbert.” 

Then we have several tales from the Mabino- 
gion,” a collection of stories, made expressly for 
children (for that is what the long word means), 
all full of that charm of mystery and magic 
which is the chief characteristic of Celtic litera- 





X 


Preface 


ture, and forming a distinct contrast to the burly 
matter-of-fact adventures of the next group of 
tales. .Of these the “Tale of Taliesin” was, 
perhaps, the greatest favorite in the Middle 
Ages ; and you will find that most of the others 
have some connection with King Arthur, the 
hero of Celtic romance. “ Olger the Dane ” 
really belongs to this group, for it is certainly 
Celtic in origin, though it appears at the end of 
the Norman-French epic of “Charlemagne”; 
and “ King Fortager ” belongs to the “ Merlin ” 
cycle of tales—all closely connected with the 
story of King Arthur and his knights. Now we 
come to a set more typically English. The ad¬ 
ventures of “ Richard Lion-Heart,” “ Havelok 
the Dane,” “ Guy of Warwick,” “ Sir Bevis,” 
and “ Sir Isumbras ” are all concerned with 
sturdy English or Danish heroes, most of whom 
won undying glory on the battlefield. Fighting 
is here the dominant note, as was “ mystery ” in 
the Celtic stories. “ Sir Gawaine ” and “ Sir 
Cleges,” though also English in origin, are 
touched with Celtic magic ; and the “ Hermit 
and the Angel ” is one of the quaint tales of that 
collection known as the “ Gesta Romanorum,” 
made by an Englishman early in the fourteenth 




Preface 


XI 


century. And the “ Heir of Linne ” is an old 
ballad from the delightful collection of ballad 
literature known as “ Percy’s Reliques. ” 

I have included a few Old English poems, 
translated by the Rev. Stopford A. Brooke, M.A., 
who has shown us the original form while keep¬ 
ing so wonderfully close to the spirit of the old 
poetry. These will make clear the essential 
marks of Old English poetry—the alliteration 
and accented rhythm in place of rhyme—as well 
as other characteristics. 

I would like also to remind those boys and 
girls who are fond of history, that nothing shows 
us the actual life of those old days better than 
these stories, often contemporary with the days 
of which they tell; and, since these tales are ar¬ 
ranged here roughly in chronological order, they 
will serve as a kind of continuous view of Eng¬ 
lish and Celtic social life and manners up to the 
fifteenth century. 

And, last of all, I hope very sincerely that you 
may all enjoy reading these tales with as much 
pleasure as I have found in retelling them. 

E. M. W. B. 





CONTENTS 


PAGE 

The Tale of the White-horned; or, the Cattle 

Raid of Cooley • . . . i 

The Story of Beowulf— 

i. Beowulf and Grendel . . .8 

ii. The Vengeance of Grendel’s Mother . 21 

iii. The Fight with the Fire-Dragon . , 25 

The Children of Lir . . . -35 

The Story of Cynewulf and Cyneherd ^ . 39 

The Voyage of Ohthere . . .42 

The Story of Alfred and Guthrum . . 45 

The Story of Caedmon, the Herdsman Poet . 47 

A Riddle of Cynewulf . . . 52 

The Story of the Fight at Brihtnoth . . 53 

Another Riddle of Cynewulf . . -59 

The Story of Alfred the King and Cuthbert 

THE Saint . . . . .61 

The Story of Alphege the Archbishop . 64 

xiii 




Contfent§ 


xiv 

i’Acii 

Th±: Story of the Qitest of the Seven Cham¬ 
pions— 

i. The Seven Champions of Arthur , , 67 

ii. How the Seven Champions found Olwen . 71 

hi. The Impossible Tasks . -78 

iv. The Impossible Tasks fulfilled . . 83 

V. How Prince Kilhugh won his Bride . 91 

biD English Charms .... 103 

The Lady of the Fountain— 

i. The Tale of Kynon . . . 106 

ii. The Tale of Owain , . . .112 

hi. The further Adventures of Owain . • nf 

The Story of King Lub . : ; -130 

^HE Tale of Taliesin .. .. 137 

Olger the Dane— 

i. How Olger became the Champion of France 148 

ii. The Vengeance of Olger . . . 161 

ih. The Return from Avalon . . . 169 

The Story of King Fortager . . .181 

The Story of Richard Lion-Heart . .194 

The Story of Hav±:lok the Dane— 

i. The Early Adventures of Havelok ; . 201 

ii. How Havelok became the Servant of the 

Queen’s Cook . . . .210 

. hi. How Havelok came to Denmark . .218 

iv; How Havelok became King of England . 226 


fcontents 


xV 

jpACfe 

Another Riddle of Cynewulf . . .237 

Tni: Tale of Sir Cleggs . . ; . 23(5! 

The StorV of Guy of Warwick . . . 244 

The Story of Sir EcLAMbuR . . . 253 

The Story of Sir GawaynS ANb the Green 


Knight— 

i: The Coming of the Green Knight 
ii; The Jouriley : ; 

iii. Sir Gawayhe keeps his Tryst 

The Happy Land : ; ; - 

^IR Bfcvis OF HAMPTbN— 

i; Early Adventured ; ; ; 

ii; Sir Bevis wind hid Estate . * 

The Story of Sir Ismubras— 

i. The Seven Misfortunes 

ii. Sir Isumbras wins his Happiness 

The Story of the Heir of Linne i 


• 25^ 
. 266 

; 274 

; 287 

. 2gi 
; 302 


. 30^- 
. 316 

. 32^ 


Pronouncing Index 


339 





<X4 ^'«; 

4 


'^T\* 


4 

i 


% 




» 






• > 






■ 


r-i*'- f» 
* < 




- ?: 


/ iU ^Ti-7 


' Aki. . **• , 


* V ■ 


•» 


;? • 


f f 

,.V* . - fcVJL * 


u> 



-<• 


♦ 

* ' V 


r 

■r 

fc' 



4 



I * ' ^ 

\ ‘ 

A* ^ 


• •> 
» 



1 


TPIE TALE OF THE WHITE - HORNED ; 
OR THE CATTLE RAID OF COOLEY 



EAV, Queen of Connaught, was one 
of the richest and most fortunate 
queens that Ireland has ever known. 


Her husband, a king’s son, also had great 
possessions, and ruled with, her very happily 
over the land of Connaught. 

In those days husbands and w^.es did not join 
their property together and hold it in common, 
but each kept what had belonged to them before 
marriage, and added to it as the years went on. 
So it came to pass that one day Queen Meav 
and her husband had a great argument as to 
which of them was the richer, and they resolved 
to produce and compare their treasures one 
against the other. First was brought to them 
all their vessels used for washing, eating, and 
drinking. Some were of wood, some of silver, 
and some of gold ; but they each found that what 
they had were exactly equal in value. Then were 
brought their finger-rings, clasps, bracelets, 
A I 



2 Stories of Early England 

thumb-rings, necklets, and diadems of gold; 
but they also were equal in value. 

Their garments were brought : crimson and 
blue and black and yellow and white and 
streaked cloths were spread before each ; but 
they too were equal. 

Then were brought their flocks of sheep, and 
horses from the pastures. Great herds of pigs 
were driven up from the depths of forest 
glens, and droves of cows from the woods and 
mountains in the far borders of the province. 
Still all were equal. At length there was found 
among the King’s herds a splendid young bull, 
which could not be matched for beauty among all 
the oxen of the Queen. He was of immense size, 
and his great head tossed and flashed in the 
sunlight, and all men called him the White- 
Horned. 

The Queen was much vexed to find that the 
King had beaten her in their contest, so she sent 
for her cousin, Mac Roth, and said to him : 

“ Where, O cousin, in all the five provinces of 
Erin can I find a bull to match the White- 
Horned > ” 

I know of one,” answered Mac Roth—a 
better one still, called the Brown Bull of Cooley 



The Tale of the White-Horned i' 


—but it belongs' to Dare of Cooley, in Ulster, 
and I know not whether he will let it go.” 

“ Go,” said the Queen, ask Dare to lend me 
the bull for a year, and I will send it back with 
fifty heifers as well. And if the men of Cooley 
object to losing their bull from the land, let 
Dar^ bring it to me himself, and I will give him 
as much land, and as fine, as he now holds,, and 
a chariot worth sixty-three cows, and will take 
him into my royal favor for the rest of his life.” 

So Mac Roth went on his errand to Dare with 
nine of his followers, and, having reached the 
country of the Brown Bull, was hospitably re¬ 
ceived ]»y his master. The story was told him, 
and when he heard how much the matter meant 
to Queen Meav, he agreed to give it to them 
and to accept the terms she offered. Then, as 
night approached, he ordered that food should be 
set before them, and that they should be well 
entertained for the night. But as the nine 
messengers sat together, drinking and chatting, 
they began to talk in boastful words about the 
matter in hand. One of them said that he mar¬ 
velled that Dare should give to nine friendly men 
the Brown Bull, which the four provinces of Erin 
could not have taken by force out of Ulster. 


4 Stories of Early England 

Another said, with a jeer, that Dare had done well 
to do so, and that little thanks were due to him, 
for if he had not given it willingly. Queen Meav 
would quickly have taken it by force. At that 
moment Dare’s steward entered, bringing some 
fresh food, but when he heard this boast, he threw 
the meat on the ground, and told his master what 
had just been said. Then Dare was very wroth, 
and declared that these rude men and their Queen 
should never have the Brown Bull at all. 

So the messengers returned to Meav, and told 
her all. Then the Queen raised a great army, 
and together with her husbaiul and her daughter, 
who was named the Fairbrowed, she marched 
against the men of Ulster. 

Now, it so happened that at this time the 
men of Ulster, because of some wicked deeds 
done many years before, lay under a curse. 
This meant that none of them had any strength 
in their limbs, so that they could not hold 
a weapon or go out to the battle. The only one 
who had escaped was the hero Cuchulain, who 
dwelt upon the very borders of Ulster, and in 
the midst of whose domain was the dwell¬ 
ing place of Dare, master of the Brown Bull. 
Cuchulain, then, was the only man in Ulster to 



The Tale of the White-Horned 5 

face the invaders, which he did with great bold¬ 
ness, challenging them all to single combat. 

So they agreed that no advance should be 
made into the land till Cuchulain had been con¬ 
quered ; but day after day passed, and every 
man fought in turn, and still the champion of 
Ulster was the victor. 

At length Queen Meav would wait no longer; 
she broke the compact, ravaged Ulster with fire 
and sword, and, having seized the Brown Bull, 
marched back again to her own land. 

But before the army could reach their own 
land the curse came to an end, and the men of 
Ulster, wild with rage at this invasion, took up 
arms, pursued the cattle plunderers and, having 
beaten them in fair fight, drove them helter- 
skelter across the River Shannon. But they 
did not recover the Brown Bull, since Queen 
Meav had taken care to send him on beforehand 
to the palace. 

Now, when the Brown Bull of Cooley found 
himself in a strange country and among strange 
cattle, he set up such a bellowing as had never 
before been heard in the land of Erin. And 
when White-Horned, the King’s bull, heard 
those sounds, he knew that some strange foe 



6 Stories of Early England 

had come against him, and rushed out to battle 
with the bellower. They met in a wide valley 
among the mountains, and the sight of one 
another was the signal for a terrific fight. The 
whole province rang with the roars of the two 
bulls. The sky was darkened with the sods 
of earth thrown up by their hoofs and horns, 
and the foam of their mouths was like thick 
clouds of snow. Men, women, and children, 
faint of heart at such a sight, hid themselves in 
caves; only the very boldest dared to look on 
afar from the tops of the neighboring hills. 

At length the Brown Bull began bit by bit to 
prevail, and the White-Horned turned, and fled. 
He rushed through a mountain pass where 
sixteen warriors were standing to view the fight, 
and not only killed and trampled them underfoot, 
but buried them several feet below the ground 
through the force of his own hoofs and of the 
bull that pursued him. 

Over hill and dale they ran, till at last the 
Brown Bull overtook the White-Horned, raised 
him up on his horns, and so ran off with him. 
Past the gates of the palace of Meav he ran, 
tossing his enemy in the air, until at last the 
White-Horned was tossed and shaken to pieces. 


The Tale of the White-Horned 7 


And everywhere a limb of the bull fell, there its 
name remained forever. And this is the reason 
why Ath Mor, which means the Great Ford, was 
called from that day Athlone (or AthA?/«), for 
the great loin of the White-Horned fell upon 
that spot when his enemy passed by. At last, 
when the Brown Bull had shaken the White- 
Horned limb by limb from his horns, he returned 
to his own country so furious that everyone fled 
at his approach. Soon there would^have been 
not a man left in Ulster ; but as the bull faced 
towards his own home, the people of the village 
hid behind a great rock, which he in his mad 
rage mistook for another bull, and, butting 
against it with all his force, he dashed out his 
brains, and died. 

So neither the Queen nor the King were any 
the better for this “ Cattle Raid of Cooley," and 
they never had a contest of the kind again. 

From the “ Cattle Spoil of Chuailgni^ ” one of the oldest 
relics of Gaelic literature^ written down possibly about 
the year 


THE STORY OF BEOWULF 


I. BEOWULF AND GRENDEL 

T hree mighty kings had ruled the 
Danes in bygone years; their names 
were Scef and Scyld and Beowulf. 

Scef came from the sea, and no man knew his 
fatherland. He came as a babe, floating in a 
boat upon the waters, and at his head was a 
sheaf of corn. He was sent for the comfort of 
the people, because they had no king. He over¬ 
threw the might of the foemen, and gave peace 
to the people, and then passed away. 

After Scef came Scyld, the son of Scef, a 
prince strong in warfare, wise in counsel, gener¬ 
ous in giving treasure. When Scyld grew old 
and weak, and the time drew near that he was to 
sleep his last sleep, he bade them carry him to 
the seashore. 

Thither his people carried him, with grief in 
their hearts, and laid him in the lap of a war¬ 
ship filled with treasures of gold and ornaments, 
8 



9 


The Story of Beowulf 

with battle-axes, bills and spears, and chain ar¬ 
mor ; and on his breast they laid rich offerings 
of jewels and precious stones. A golden flag 
was set up over his head, and thereupon they 
unfurled the sails, and let the wind bear the ship 
where it would over the wide sea. So over the 
water, and alone, departed Scyld, even as Scef 
his father had come. But he sailed away over 
the water, even as a king in the track of the 
wild swans, with his battle spoils at his right 
hand ; and so he passed from the land. Of his 
race was Beowulf, a beloved chieftain, strong of 
hand. He too gave the people peace, and then 
passed away. After those days the people chose 
Healfdene for their leader, and when he died, 
at a good ripe age, his son Hrothgar reigned 
in his stead. Good fortune and prosperity fol¬ 
lowed in the steps of Hrothgar, and under him 
the Danes became a powerful and wealthy peo¬ 
ple. 

So it came to pass that Hrothgar had it in 
mind to build a great mead-hall in his city, a 
palace wherein his men-at-arms might feast after 
their warfare and rejoice in the good things of 
this life. Very fair was this mead-hall, with high 
pinnacles and well-fashioned arches; and it was 


lO Stories of Early England 

named Heorot—the Heart Hall—that all might 
know it to be the heart and centre of the land. 
It was opened with a great banquet, with sound 
of harp and song, and giving of rings and treas¬ 
ure to the men of valor, so that all the people 
rejoiced and swore fealty to him. Then was the 
heart of Hrothgar lifted up with pride, because 
of the ihead-hall Heorot which he had built. 

Far away in the fens which surrounded that 
pladO of joy lived an evil spirit, grim and terrible, 
named Greiidel, whose home was in the dark and 
fenny wastes of marshland. 

He watched this noble palace being built, and 
his heart was full of anger, because he saw that 
it made the people of One mind under their lord. 
One night he crept up to the mead-hall where 
the nobles and thanes were sleeping after their 
feast, regardless of harm and ill. Softly he en¬ 
tered, and, gripping hold of thirty weary men 
with his gigantic arms, he carried them off to 
his lair, there to devour them at his leisure. 
When morning came, the Danes, awaking in the 
dim light, saw the tracks of the evil spirit, and 
mourned bitterly for the loss of their relations, 
for they knew too well that mortal strength 
availed for naught against such an enemy. 


11 


The Story of Beowulf 

The next night the fiend came again on his 
grisly errand, and more were snatched away; 
and for twelve years he did the like, until the 
houses of the land were empty because of the 
death-dealing of the ogre of the marshes. 

Warriors and counsellors were swept away, 
and none could stay the destruction. The aged 
King Hrothgar grew gray and bent with grief 
for the loss of his brave followers. Night after 
night he sat keeping watch in the mead-hall 
among his vassals, but though men were 
snatched away from every side of him, yet Gren- 
del could never touch him on his throne of state. 
Then Hrothgar grew weary of his life; and when 
men came to him for counsel he answered noth¬ 
ing, but sat bowed in grief, his hoary head rest¬ 
ing on his arms, and the people prayed in vain 
for a deliverer from the slayer of their country¬ 
men. 

Away to the westward among the people of 
the Geats lived a mighty thane named Beowulf, 
tall, and strongest of his race, and kinsman to 
Hygelac, chief of the Geats. 

This young warrior heard of the deeds of 
Grendel and of the troubles of Hrothgar, and re¬ 
solved to go to his aid. So he sought out a band 


12 Stories of Early England 

of fourteen warriors, his favorite companions, 
and went on board a ship to seek the land of the 
Danes across the sea. Like a bird the vessel, 
with prow like the neck of a swan, flitted across 
the sea-path, until at length the adventurers 
reached the windy cliffs and steep hills of the 
Danish shore. 

Scarcely had they landed when the Warden 
of the Shore rode down the beach to learn 
what they had come for. “Who are you,” he 
cried, “bearing arms and wearing coats of mail, 
who have come over the watery highway ? Long 
time have I kept the coast, but never yet saw I 
men more openly attempting to land here. You 
know not even the password of our warriors, 
the token of kinsmen. True, I never have seen 
a finer warrior than one who stands among you, 
but yet I am bound to know from whence you 
come, before I let you proceed farther into the 
land of the Danes.” 

Then Beowulf answered : “ We are men of 
the race of the Geats, hearth-fellows of Hygelac. 
With friendly intent have we come to visit your 
lord, the guardian of his people, so be thou good 
to us, and help us on our way. We have a great 
message for the prince of the Danes. Away in 



13 


The Story of Beowulf 

our land we have heard of a strange and terrible 
visitor of darkness who has wrought havoc among 
your countrymen, and for this have we brought 
a remedy. Do you bring us on our way to 
Heorot with all the speed you can.” 

Then they proceeded on fheir march. Their 
armor gleamed, and the ring-iron of their 
trappings rang merrily as they tramped into the 
palace of Heorot. Weary with their journey, 
the men were glad to lay aside their broad 
shields against the outer wall, and to pile their 
javelins in a heap before they entered. To them 
came out a herald, who bade them say whence 
and why they came ; to which Beowulf replied : 

** We are Hygelac’s hearth-fellows. To the 
prince of this land, the illustrious Hrothgar, 
alone will I expound my errand.” Then the 
herald returned to where Hrothgar sat, old and 
hoary, among his earls ; and he prayed him that 
he would give audience to the stranger-men, and 
to their chief, whose name was Beowulf. And 
when Hrothgar heard that name he exclaimed : 
“ Beowulf ! I knew him when he was a boy—he 
has the strength of thirty men in his hand-grip. 
Bring him in hither with his men, and say they 
ire welcome visitors to our land.” So Beowulf 


14 Stories of Early England 

entered, and thus accosted him: “ Hail, O King 
Hrothgar ! Hygelac’s thane am I and his hearth- 
comrade. Many a time by night and day have 
I fought against evil ones by sea and land, and 
now am I come to deliver the brave Danes from 
their peril, to fight against Grendel the Ogre. 
And, since no weapon will avail against him, 
I will not bear sword, or broad shield, or yellow 
buckler to the conflict, but with hand-grips will 
encounter the foe. And if he bear away my 
dead body with intent to devour it in the grisly 
moor swamps, why, ’ twill but spare the trouble 
of my burial! But send to Hygelac the match¬ 
less armor which Wayland the Smith forged 
to protect my breast, and cease to grieve for me. 
Fate goeth ever as it must.” 

Then Hrothgar answered, and said : ** Well 
indeed, O Beowulf, do I know of the courage 
and might that dwells within your hand-clasp. 
But you know not how terrible is this Grendel. 
Oft have my hardy warriors, fierce over their 
ale-cups at nightfall, promised to await the onset 
of Grendel with clash of swords, and as oft, in 
the morning, the benches and floor of this mead- 
hall have reeked with their blood. Yet be it as 
you will, and ere nightfall comes, and the 


The Story of Beowulf 15 

■J 

dreaded Grendel enters to choose his prey, 
I bid you sit down to banquet, and merrily share 
the feast with your fellows, while by old custom 
we incite each other to a brave and careless 
mind.” 

Then were the benches cleared, and Beowulf 
and the Geats sat at banquet with the Danes, 
while the twisted ale-cup went merrily round. • ^ 
Now there was one of those who sat at the 
feet of Hrothgar, Unferth by name, who looked 
with a jealous eye on the new-comer, grudging 
that any man should do greater deeds than him¬ 
self. So he said scoffingly: “Are you that 
Beowulf who strove with Breca on the open sea 
in a swimming match, when you two out of 
bravado explored the floods and risked your 
lives in deep waters For a week, ’ tis said, 
you toiled in the surge; but he outdid you 
in swimming, and came at length to his own 
land. All his boast to you did Breca fulfil; 
wherefore I look for ill luck for you if you 
dare bide in Greildeb^ way for the space of a 
night.” 

Then'Beowulf answered: ^‘^Big things have 
you spoken, O Unferth, about this adventure 
with Breca."" But I claim rightly to have shown 


16 Stories of Early England 

more sea-power, more buffeting by the waves, 
than any other man. 

“ True it is that we, when boys, tried a con¬ 
test of swimming. Drawn swords we had as we 
plied along to protect us from the whales. No 
farther could Breca swim than I, and, seeing 
him fail, I would not leave him. So we kept to¬ 
gether in the sea for five nights and days till the 
flood parted us—icy weather, dark night, and a 
fierce wind from the north. Then was the 
temper of the sea-fishes stirred. A spotted 
monster dragged me to the bottom, and it would 
have gone ill with me but for the protection of 
my coat of mail. But I got at the monster with 
my knife, and in the end despatched the mighty 
sea-brute. 

“ Then many another beast attacked me ; but 
it was not fated that they should devour me for 
their supper on the floor of the sea ; on the 
other hand, next morning they lay dead and stiff 
it the track of the sea-wave, and so I escaped, 
weary and worn, from their grips. The sea cast 
me upon the land of the Finns, and so I arrived 
home. But never yet did Breca or anyone else 
kill nine sea-monsters such as they; and to 
you, Unferth, this I say in good truth : Never 


17 


The Story of Beowulf 

would Grendel have made such a tale of horrors, 
for your prince here, if your courage were what 
you claim it to be. 

For Grendel has found out that he need not 
fear much from you and yours ; he makes a 
sport of war, slaughters, and feasts himself ; but 
now shall he learn a different lesson from the 
warlike Geats.” 

Then Hrothgar rejoiced when he perceived 
the'resolute purpose that was in Beowulf. His 
mighty men laughed with, joy, and the noise 
of harp and song resounded through the hall. 
Presently there entered to them Wealtheow, 
Hrothgar’s Queen, who, in her gold array, 
greeted the new-comers. According to custom, 
she took the jewelled beaker, and presented it 
first to her sovereign lord, then to all the rest in 
turn, until at length she brought it to Beowulf, 
the mighty chief, and greeted him with wise 
words as the champion of her people. And he 
took the cup from Wealtheow’s hands, and said: 
“No more shall Grendel prey upon the valiant 
Danes till he has felt the might of my fingers.” 
So all the people were glad at his words, and 
rejoiced over their wine-cups. By this time it 
had grown dark, and they began to recall the 

B 


18 Stories of Early England 

fact that the monster was hovering near. So 
Hrothgar and his hearth-fellows arose, and went 
out one by one, leaving the hall, now dim with 
the shades of night, to the protection of Beowulf. 

Then Beowulf began to laugh at the fears of 
the company who had left the hall, and took off 
his helmet, his sword, and the rest of his armor, 
giving them to his squire, with these valiant 
words: “ No less a fighter am I than Grendel, 
therefore I will not kill him with my sword. 
Naught knows he of sword cuts or how to use 
the shield, so when we meet in the night-time 
it shall be without weapons on both sides.” 

Then all lay down upon the ground, and soon 
all, save one, were sound asleep. 

Then from the misty depths of the moor 
came Grendel, full of wrath, and thirsting for 
his prey. 

The door of the hall, though fastened with 
bars of wrought iron, sprang open as soon as he 
touched it with his hands, and in a moment he 
was trending the pavement of the inner room. 
Flames darted from his eyes as he looked 
around, and he laughed aloud when he saw asleep 
before him so goodly a company of men. One of 
the sleeping warriors he seized, and in a moment 


The Story of Beowulf 19 

tore him to pieces, crunched his bones, drank his 
blood, and devoured his whole body. 

Next he spied Beowulf, lying upon a raised 
bed, and put forth his hand to take him. But 
his hand and arm were promptly seized in such 
a grip as had never before been felt by him. 
He tried to free himself, to escape, to break out 
again into the darkness, but in vain ; for Beowulf 
was now upon his feet and at deadly grips with 
the monster. The men, both those in the hall 
and those in the castle, hearing the roar and din, 
awoke, and stood aghast at the sight of the con¬ 
flict. To and fro swayed the twain, wrecking the 
benches, and raising such a noise that hardly did 
the hall stand firm. 

Then the followers of Beowulf snatched up 
their swords, and ran to the help of their master. 
But, though they did not know it, not the choic¬ 
est blade on earth nor the finest war axe would 
hurt the monster, for he had by enchantment 
made himself safe against the edges of all 
weapons. 

So between him and Beowulf the battle raged, 
and so strong was the warrior’s grip that he tore 
off the arm of the monster before Grendel was 
able to escape from Heorot. 


20 Stories of Early England 

Then Beowulf in triumph hung up the arm as 
a trophy from the roof of Heorot, and when the 
morning dawned all the people gathered together 
from far and wide to hear the story of the down¬ 
fall of Grendel. Then many of the warriors set 
out to follow his track across the moor, and 
traced him to the shore of the Mere. There 
they found the water all surging with his life¬ 
blood, and so rode back, rejoicing in his death, 
to Heorot. 

Within the hall, meantime, Hrothgar was 
making a stately speech of thanks to Beowulf, 
who answered modestly that he had not stuck 
closely enough to the monster or he would have 
killed him there and then, and prevented his es¬ 
cape. But he pointed to the hanging arm, with 
its nails like spurs, saying that, though the mon¬ 
ster had gone forth into the night, it was only to 
die. 

Then a great feast was made in honor of the 
event, at which Hrothgar presented to Beowulf 
a golden flag, richly decorated, a helmet and coat 
of mail, and a splendid sword, the hilt inlaid with 
jewels and with gold. When these had been 
presented, eight beautiful horses were led into 
the court, and the King’s own war saddle, deco- 


21 


The Story of Beowulf 

rated with silver, was placed upon the back of 
the foremost, a noble charger, and all together 
were handed over to Beowulf, as a mark of grati¬ 
tude from the King for freeing Heorot from the 
horror of Grendel. 

So once again the hall resounded with joy¬ 
ous songs and, when night approached, each 
warrior went to his rest lighter of heart than of 
old. 

II. THE VENGEANCE OF GRENDEL’s MOTHER 

The last story told us how the noble Beowulf 
caused the downfall of the monster Grendel. 
This one goes on to describe a yet more terrible 
fight waged by that mighty hero with the powers 
of Darkness. 

Down amid the cold waters of the Mere dwelt 
a wicked troll-wife, the mother of the monster, 
and when night fell this terrible hag approached 
the hall of Heorot, breathing vengeance for the 
loss of Grendel. Just when the warriors least 
expected harm, and when most of them were 
happily asleep, she burst into their midst, and, 
seizing one of the young noblemen who followed 
Hrothgar, crushed him in her grip with one 
hand, while with the other she tore down the arm 



22 Stories of Early England 

of Grendel from the roof, and escaped hurriedly 
back to the fen. 

Now this night Beowulf had not slept in 
Heorot, a more comfortable lodging having been 
prepared for him elsewhere. When Hrothgar 
heard the dreadful news of the cruel end of one of 
his favorite young warriors, he asked that Beo¬ 
wulf should come to him ; and then, in the early 
dawn, he poured out the sad story before him. 
Beowulf listened in silence, until the King spoke 
of his great wish that the chieftain would under¬ 
take to find the wicked troll-wife, who with her 
son had been known for years to haunt the moor¬ 
land, watching for those whom she might devour. 

Then Beowulf answered cheerily: “ Sorrow 
not, my wise lord. Better it is for every man 
that he should avenge his friend than that he 
should greatly mourn. Death must come to all, 
so let him who has the chance seek glory before 
his end comes. As for my task, let the monster 
go where she will, I promise you she shall not 
escape me.” 

So he set off with a few warriors across the 
moor, following the tracks of blood left only too 
clearly upon it. By lonely paths and steep 
stone banks they travelled, until at length they 


23 


The Story of Beowulf 

came to a gloomy wood, whose trees overhung 
a gray pile of rocks, and beneath this lay a great 
stretch of water, dark and troubled. A thrill of 
horror seized each brave warrior as he looked, 
for on the brink of the cliff lay the head of their 
companion whom the troll-wife had carried off, 
and the Mere was seething with blood. 

While Beowulf was girding on his armor, the 
troop of warriors sat down on the rocks, and 
watched the grim goblin creatures who swam in 
the waters, or gambolled at the edge of the Mere. 
When their chief was ready he took his famous 
sword, Hrunting by name, which had done good 
work in bygone days, and, waving farewell, 
plunged into the eddying waters. 

When the grisly goblins who haunted the re¬ 
gions of the deep saw that one of the sons of 
men was exploring their watery home, they 
rushed to attack him. But foremost came that 
evil hag whom he sought for, and, gripping him 
in her iron clutches, would have crushed his 
bones had not his coat of mail withstood her 
grasp. Yet he was powerless, and was borne 
away to her dread mansion; while a pursuing 
crowd of monsters harassed him, and battered 
on his war helmet with their tusks. 


24 Stories of Early England 

At length Beowulf perceived that he stood in 
a strange and gloomy hall, into which no water 
could enter, although it lay beneath the waves. 
By a dim gleam of firelight he saw himself con¬ 
fronted by the troll-wife, a creature half wolf, 
half goblin. Rushing upon her with his famous 
sword he struck with all his might. But, alas! 
the sharp edge turned aside as though it were a 
leaf, for, like her son, she was proof against all 
human weapons. 

Then Beowulf flung the sword aside, and 
gripped the troll-wife with his hands. Once she 
sank to the ground, but it was only in order to 
grapple with him more strongly, and at length, 
utterly exhausted, he fell prostrate to the earth. 
Uttering a fiendish yell the hag threw herself upon 
him with her great blood-stained knife, and 
stabbed him with all her might; but the breast 
net of interlaced steel interposed and turned 
the point aside, and as she lay spent with the 
force of the blow Beowulf staggered to his 
feet. 

As he did so his eyes fell upon a pile of ar¬ 
mor, wrought by giants and goblins in olden 
days. From this he snatched a sword so huge 
that no other man could wield it, and smote, in 


The Story of Beowulf 25 

despair of his life, with such effect that the troll- 
wife dropped dead upon the ground. 

Immediately the glimmer of light shot up, 
and filled the place as though with sunshine. 
Fiercely swinging his sword Beowulf explored 
the hall, and ere long came upon the body of 
Grendel, whose head he forthwith cut off. 

Meantime his absence had lasted for so long 
that the warriors on the brink had become ex¬ 
tremely troubled about him. Presently, as they 
watched, they saw the waters redden with blood, 
and most of them at once concluded that the 
troll-wife had torn their leader in pieces. There¬ 
fore, as it grew late, the followers of Hrothgar 
gave him up for lost and returned to Heorot; 
but his own men sat sadly by the reddening waves, 
thinking of their beloved leader. 

While they thus mourned for him, Beowulf, 
whose magic sword had melted away in his hands 
when touched by the blood of Grendel, was 
swimming upward through depths now clear and 
purified; for the goblins had fled forever when they 
saw the fall of the monsters who had ruled them. 

With glad hearts and hands did his followers 
help the hero to land, and shouts of joy they 
gave as they perceived the head of Grendel. 


26 Stories of Early England 

To Heorot then they hastened; and that grim 
head, together with the hilt of the magic sword, 
was brought before Hrothgar as he sat at table, 
as trophies of what Beowulf had done. 

Then the joy of Hrothgar knew no bounds, and 
after loading the hero with rewards and thanks, 
he ordered a fresh banquet for him and his fol¬ 
lowers ; after which Beowulf, tired out, asked 
for nothing but his couch. There he slept till 
the voice of the birds proclaimed the sunrise, 
and then prepared to return to his own land. 

Sad was the parting with Hrothgar, who was 
loth to let him go, and who loaded him and his 
followers with so many gifts that for long his gen¬ 
erosity was talked of when they were far from the 
Hall of Heorot. 

III. THE FIGHT WITH THE FIRE DRAGON 

For many a long year after his fight with the 
monsters of the Mere did Beowulf rule his king¬ 
dom wisely and well; but when he was quite an 
old man a dreadful event stirred up the country¬ 
side, and caused him once again to call for 
his sword and armor. 

On a lonely heath in one part of his kingdom 
stood a great pile of stones, overhanging a path 


27 


The Story of Beowulf 

by which no man dared to go, for the story was 
told that a fierce dragon lived in that rocky pile, 
guarding a treasure. One day, however, a cer¬ 
tain man had offended his chieftain so sorely 
that he found himself, homeless and bruised 
with many blows, a wanderer upon this lonely 
heath. Stumbling on his way, and careless 
of what befell him, he climbed upon a rocky cliff, 
and, seeking shelter among the boulders, came 
suddenly upon a gleam of gold. He looked 
farther, and there, half hidden by the stones, he 
saw the entrance to a cave all glittering with 
golden treasure. 

Just inside the mouth of the cave a Fire 
Dragon lay in a deep, deep sleep. He had 
guarded this treasure for three hundred years, 
and very seldom slept, but when he did he slept 
very soundly. 

The outcast crept in, and snatching a tankard 
^—that is to say, a great cup—ornamented with 
golden pictures, he fled away over the heath, 
and brought it to his chieftain, begging for 
forgiveness and kind treatment if, in return, he 
told him his discovery. The petition was granted, 
and on hearing the news his lord hastened with 
a band of followers to the place. The dragon 



28 Stories of Early England 

still slept, and before he awoke they had carried 
off a vast store of gold and jewels. 

Now when the dragon awoke he was very 
wroth. He sniffed the scent of his unwelcome 
visitors, and began to search closely through the 
desert waste. Every now and then he would 
dash back into the cavern, to see if it were 
really true that the treasure had gone. But 
when evening came he delayed no longer, but 
hastened forth filled with fiery rage. He sur¬ 
rounded the farmsteads with his hot breath, so 
that the flames of roof and barn filled the air, 
and, advancing upon the hall of Beowulf himself, 
he spirted fire upon it, so that the very walls be¬ 
gan to melt away. Then, as daylight was 
breaking, he hurried to his own dark cave. 

When this crushing news was told to Beowulf 
he was filled with thoughts of revenge, and 
at once gave orders that they should make for 
him an iron war shield, as strong as possible, 
for well he knew that no shield of wood could 
help him against his enemy’s fiery breath. Yet 
he would not deign to show fear before him, so 
he went forth alone to the meeting, leaving all 
but a few of his followers behind. But first the 
whole story of the stolen treasure had been told 


29 


The Story of Beowulf 

him, and the precious cup had been placed in his 
hands. So the man who by his rash deed had 
first begun the quarrel, was forced, much against 
his will, to show Beowulf the way. When they 
came within sight of the place, he bade farewell 
to his guide and to those who had brought him on 
his way, bidding them to await him on the hill¬ 
side, ready armed, to see the result of the conflict. 

So on he went, and presently came to an arch 
of rocks, through which flowed a stream, hot and 
steamy with the dragon’s breath. Then Beo¬ 
wulf gave a great shout, and out rushed the 
dragon from his cavern. Bent like a bow, he 
came shuffling along in headlong fashion, and 
flung himself upon the King, who defended him¬ 
self bravely with his shield until his chance came. 
Then, swinging up his arm, he smote the mon¬ 
ster with his great sword ; but the brown edge 
turned upon the hard skin, and Beowulf became 
hard pressed. Nearer and nearer came the 
dragon, casting forth devouring fire from his 
mouth, and showers of sparks fell round him. 

The followers of Beowulf had eagerly watched 
the conflict from a distance, and how, seeing how 
badly it fared with their brave lord, they began 
to tremble for their own lives, and so slunk away 


30 Stories of Early England 

into a. wood near by. But one of them, a youth 
named VViglaf, a cousin of the King, said boldly 
that it was' a shameful thing that they should 
carry back their shields unmarked, and that their 
lord should fall alone in the fight; and so, leav¬ 
ing them, he rushed to where, in the midst of 
a cloud of black smoke, his kinsman and the 
dragon were in deadly conflict. He shouted a 
word of encouragement to Beowulf, and scarcely 
had he finished speaking when the monster 
turned upon him. His shield was consumed by 
the waves of flame, his coat of mail useless 
against it, and he was driven to fight under pro¬ 
tection of the King’s shield. Encouraged by his 
presence Beowulf struck a mighty blow, so that 
his weapon stood fixed in the dragon’s head, and 
then flew into splinters. This so enraged the 
monster that he rushed upon the hero with such 
force that he bore him to the ground, and fixed 
his teeth in his neck, wounding him very sorely. 
But Wiglaf lifted his trusty sword, and smote 
the dragon, and pierced him, so that from that 
moment the fire grew less, and the beast began 
to draw away. Then the King recovered him¬ 
self, drew his war knife, and dealt the dragon 
his death blow. 


3J 


The Story of Beowulf 

But Beowulf himself was very sorely wounded, 
for the poisoned teeth of the dragon had caused 
the bites to inflame and swell. In vain did Wig- 
laf loosen the King’s helmet and dash water 
upon his face; he knew the end was near at 
hand. Then Beowulf bade him enter the cavern 
and bring him word of what he saw. 

A strange place it was, built by the dwarfs in 
olden times, and full of the treasures of kings 
long dead and gone. It was lighted by the 
gleam of a wonderful golden banner, which hung 
from the roof, and showed him stores of jewels, 
ancient armor, bracelets, and richly ornamented 
cups. Hastily gathering as much as he could 
carry in his arms, Wiglaf hastened back, only to 
find his dear lord at the point of death. Look¬ 
ing upon the pile of treasure, he thanked God 
with a feeble voice that he had been permitted 
to give his life for what would provide for the 
needs of all his followers, and giving to Wiglaf 
his golden collar, helmet, and breastplate, he 
said: Thou art the last of my race; all my 

kinsmen, chivalrous princes that they were, have 
passed into eternity; I must follow after them.” 

Thus the brave Beowulf yielded up his life. 

Presently came the nobles who had deserted 


32 Stories of Early England 

him in time of need, and found Wiglaf refreshing 
his parched lips with water and weeping over his 
dead prince. Then bitterly did Wiglaf address 
them, saying : Brave warriors indeed ! Now 
that the fight is over, have you indeed summoned 
courage to come and share the treasure—you 
who forsook your treasure-giver, your noble 
prince, to whom you owe the very war trappings 
in which you stand ? I tell you that, though 
you shall see the treasure and hold it in your own 
hands, yet it shall never profit you or yours. 
The Swedes who came from over the sea, who 
slew Hygelac, the same that Beowulf drove from 
the land, will come again when they know that 
our hero is dead, will snatch the treasure from 
your weak grasp, and carry you away into bond¬ 
age along with it. Let it be his who won it. 
He will guard it safer in his sleep than you with 
feeble war blades and weak javelins. 

‘tLet the lord of the Geats slumber with it 
in the cairn which we shall build for him, and 
then shall men fear to touch the treasure, as 
they would to snatch a sleeping lion’s prey.” 

So the troop arose, and went joylessly under 
the Eagle’s Crag, and found there on the sand 
the lifeless body of their great prince ; and hard 


33 


The Story of Beowulf 

by lay that grisly dragon, full fifty feet long, 
who so long had been the terror of the night, 
though by day he had returned to contemplate 
his hoard. 

Then did the people of the Geats prepare for 
Beowulf a mighty funeral pile, hung round with 
helmets, with shields and breastplates; and with 
bitter tears they laid their lord upon the wood. 
Eight picked warriors walked with Wiglaf round 
the pile with torches to kindle the fire. The reek 
of the smoke rose high in the air, and the sound 
of a mourning people mingled with the crackling 
of the blaze, and the wind fanned the flames 
until they had consumed the body of the mighty- 
handed chief. 

Then did the men build a great cairn beside 
the sea. High it was, and broad, and easy to 
be seen by the sailors over the waves. Ten days 
they worked at it, and built up a beacon vast 
and tall, and laid the ashes of their lord within. 
And they carried thither all the hoarded treasure 
—rings and gems and ornaments of gold—and 
laid them within the mound. Never did earl wear 
the twisted gold, nor was maiden gladdened with 
the gold rings about her neck; the treasure 
sleeps fast in the earth beneath him who won it. 
c 


34 Stories of Early England 

Twelve nobles rode about the mound, recording 
in speech and song the glory of their King- 
even as it is meet that a man should praise his 
lord and love him in his soul after his body has 
vanished away and only his deeds remain. 

From the Epic of Beowulf the oldest of Old English 
epics. About 700-800 a. d. 




THE CHILDREN OF LIR 


L IR, a powerful Irish chieftain, had mar¬ 
ried the eldest of three beautiful maidens, 
and in course of time they had four 
fair children—a daughter and three sons. Sad 
to say, the mother died when they were still 
very young ; and Lir married again. His new 
wife, who was named Eva, was also very beauti¬ 
ful, but, though no one knew it, she was a very 
wicked sorceress. She could not bear to see 
her husband go to fondle and play with his 
children, and at last she determined to do away 
with them altogether. So one day she enticed 
them to a lonely spot among the mountains, near 
a smooth lake, and, leaving them to play together, 
she tried to bribe her servants to put them 
to death. But they would not, and so she 
returned to them determined to do the deed 
herself. Now, when she reached the spot, 
and saw how fair they looked as they ran 
races about the valley, her heart failed her, 
and she could not do this wicked thing. But 
35 


36 Stories of Early England 

she was determined that they should not return 
to their father Lir, so she called to her an 
ancient Druid who lived in a cave near that spot, 
and persuaded him to use his enchantment 
to obtain her wish. When the Druid had advised 
her what to do, she called the little ones to her, 
and said to them : Children dear, how warm 
you are with your running ! Come and let me 
bathe you in Lake Dairbreak, that you may be 
cool and refreshed.” 

The children were delighted to do so, and 
were soon splashing about in the clear water, 
but no sooner had the water covered them than 
by the magic spells of Eva and the Druid they 
were all four changed into swans. 

“ Birds shall ye be,” chanted the Druid from 
the bank as the change took place, “until, long 
ages hence, ye hear the voice of a Christian bell.” 

So the four beautiful milk-white swans swam 
sadly away over the smooth water; and when 
the cruel Eva saw what she had done, she feared 
to face her husband, and repented bitterly of her 
evil deed. But it was too late. All she could 
do was to grant to the birds the use of their 
native speech, their human reason, and the 
power of singing plaintive fairy music, so sweet 


The Children of Lir 


37 


that those who heard it should be soothed and 
calmed, however sad and angry they had been 
before. 

A terrible punishment overtook their wicked 
persecutor. When the King of that country 
heard of her cruel deed, he sent for her, and 
asked : What shape of all others on the earth, 
or below the earth, or over the earth, do you most 
abhor.? ” She replied : A demon of the air.” 

Then the King pronounced judgment on her: 
“ A demon of the air shalt thou be till the end 
of time.” 

Meantime hundreds of years passed away, and 
still the beautiful swans swam up and down 
their lake and looked for deliverance. Some¬ 
times they took flight, and entered the Western 
Sea, and sailed around the coast; but all Ireland 
was in heathen darkness, and never the sound of 
a Christian bell was heard. 

The dwellers of those coast lands used to visit 
the shore in crowds to hear their sweet music 
and watch their graceful movements. But 
after a time they were caught by the strong cur¬ 
rent of Mull, and this drove the fair birds into 
the stormy seas between Erin and Alba. Here 
they endured many a woe; for sometimes they 


38 


Stories of Early England 

were separated from one another by the storm 
and darkness, and sometimes they were almost 
frozen to death in the icy floods. And so, tor¬ 
mented by the restless waves and the chill winds 
of winter, they waited for three hundred years. 
But one soft spring morning, when the ice-floes 
had drifted away and the wind sang gently over 
the mountains, as they floated along their own 
Lake Dairbreak, they heard the sound of a Chris¬ 
tian bell. For St. Patrick had come to Ireland 
with the glad Gospel news, and everywhere men 
were building churches, and hastening to fill 
them with worshippers. 

So when the sound of the distant bell floated 
over the water, the spell was broken, and the 
Children of Lir returned to their own shapes. 
But they had lived so long that, after they had 
learnt the Christian faith, they were glad to lie 
down and rest for ever. They were all buried 
in the self-same tomb, and after their death men 
made songs about them ; and every Irish boy 
and girl to this day loves to hear the story of the 
Swan Children of Lir. 

From the earliest mythological cycle of Celtic poems. No 
copy of it is found in writing till the early seventeenth 
century, ' 


THE STORY OF CYNEWULF AND 
CYNEHERD 


T his story is found in the oldest history 
book ever written in English. It tells 
how a King of Wessex met his death 
at the hands of his enemy. 

A certain man named Cynewulf had made 
himself King of Wessex by driving the wicked 
ruler Sigbright into the woods. There Sigbright 
was slain by a shepherd, who bore a grudge 
against him. And after he was dead, his brother, 
Prince Cyneherd, determined to rule in his stead. 

He waited a while, and presently discovered 
that King Cynewulf, taking only a few soldiers 
with him, had gone to visit a lady who lived in 
the little town of Merton. So Cyneherd rode 
off to this place with all his retainers, and sur¬ 
rounded the house in which the King was sitting. 

When King Cynewulf saw what they were 
about, he rushed to the door, and fought against 
them nobly, and struck the Prince down, and 
sorely wounded him. 


39 


40 Stories of Early England 

But Prince Cyneherd’s followers flung them¬ 
selves upon the King, and overcame and slew 
him. 

When the lady saw what was happening out¬ 
side, she began to cry aloud ; and the soldiers of 
the King, hearing her cries, came running up to 
see what was the matter. 

When Prince Cyneherd saw the soldiers, he 
offered them money and their lives if they would 
join his side ; but they would not hear of it, and 
fought against him till all lay slain save one, and 
he was sorely wounded. 

In the morning King Cynewulfs men whom 
he had left behind heard what was done and how 
the King was slain. Then they rode fast to 
that place, and found that the Prince had seized 
the town and locked the gates. 

Scarcely had they begun to attack the town 
when‘Cyneherd came to them, promising to give 
them much money and land if they would own 
him as their King. He reminded them that 
many of their kinsfolk were on his side, and bade 
them make up their minds to join him also. 

But they answered ; Dear are oifr kinsfolk j 
to us, but none of them is as dear as our lord . 
the King, and we will never follow his mur- j 



Story of Cynewulf and Cyneherd 41 

derer.” And they implored their kinsfolk to 
come out of the city, and to leave the Prince. 
But they would not, saying that they were bound 
to Cyneherd as much as their kinsmen were 
bound to the King, and they would not heed 
their words. 

Then the King’s men threw themselves upon 
the gates, so that they broke them down, and en¬ 
tered. And they fought against Cyneherd and 
his followers, and slew them, all save one, who 
managed to escape with his life, although he 
was very severely wounded. 

In this way did the King’s men keep their 
faith and avenge the death of their lord. And 
they buried Prince Cyneherd at Axminster, but 
King Cynewulf in the royal city of Winchester. 

From the Saxon Chronicle, About 755 A. D. 


THE VOYAGE OF OHTHERE 


^—I ^ HIS story was told by King Alfred, 
I who relates what he heard from the 

A lips of Ohthere, a whale fisher, whom 
he had sent to explore the unknown lands of the 
north, which we call Scandinavia. 

Ohthere told his lord. King Alfred, that he had 
dwelt in a place farther north than any North¬ 
men had ever lived—by the shore of the West¬ 
ern Sea. It was nothing but desert land in that 
part of the world, except where a few Finns, who 
hunted in winter and fished in summer, had their 
huts. He had sailed along the coast of this 
waste land farther north than any whale fisher 
had ever done, and had sailed inland up a great 
river, but not for a great distance, for fear of 
unfriendly inhabitants. 

He visited this wild North Land for the sake 
of hunting the walrus, or horse-whale ” as he 
called it, which has very long teeth, some of 
which he brought home, and showed the King. 

42 






43 


The Voyage of Ohthere 

The skin of the walrus was used for ship-ropes, 
and in size it was said to be much smaller than 
the whale. 

In that land a man was said to be rich if he 
owned many reindeer. At the time that Oh¬ 
there sought out the King, he was the owner 
of six hundred tame deer; and among them were 
six “ decoy-deer,” who were very precious, since 
they were used to catch their companions in the 
wild, and bring them in fo be tamed. 

He told the King that he was one of the rich¬ 
est men in the land, for he owned more than 
twenty oxen and twenty sheep and twenty pigs; 
and if he wanted to plough, he ploughed with 
horses. 

Money and taxes were paid in that land 
by means of deerskins, birds’ feathers, walrus 
bones, ‘‘ship-ropes” made of walrus-skin, and 
seals. Every man paid taxes according to his 
rank. The highest in the land had to pay as a 
tax fifteen skins of martens, five of reindeer, one 
bearskin, ten measures of feathers, a cloak of 
bearskin or otterskin, and two ship-ropes. 

He said also that the land of the North¬ 
men was very long and narrow. The only part 
on which a man could plough or feed his cattle 


44 Stories of Early England 

lay along the coast-line, and even that was very 
rocky in places. Wild moorlands lay to the 
east, facing the cultivated land, and in these 
parts dwelt Finns, who were for ever ravaging 
the fields which the Northmen had tilled, so 
that there was constant warfare between the two 
races. 

From King A lfred''s version of Orosius^ World History^ 
880-900 A. D. 


THE STORY OF ALFRED AND 
GUTHRUM 


T his is a story of the troubled days 
when the Danish army was in England 
and no one could stand against it. 
But Alfred the King went on fighting for his 
people in Wessex even when there seemed no 
hope of victory; and sometimes he was success¬ 
ful, as you shall see. 

Soon after Alfred became King, the Danish 
army stole secretly in mid-winter, about the 
season of Twelfth Night, into Wessex, and 
settled down there, driving many of the people 
over the sea. 

Many others they caused to become their 
servants ; and Alfred with a little troop es¬ 
caped with difficulty to the woods and the hiding- 
places of the moors. 

About Easter-tide King Alfred, with his little 
troop, made a fortress on the island of Athelney ; 
and from this place he fought against the army 
in that part of Somerset in which his fortress 
lay. And when he was able, he rode forth to a 
45 


« 


46 Stories of Early England 

place called Egbright’s Stone, and many men* 
from Somerset, and Wiltshire, and Hampshire, 
and the land on the other side of the sea, joined 
him there with great rejoicing. 

And he went forth one night from the camp 
to Ethandune, and there attacked the whole of 
the Danish army, and put them to flight. After 
that he rode after them to their fortress, and sat 
before it fourteen nights. Then they gave up 
hostages to him, and took many oaths of obedience 
and promised also that their King should receive 
baptism. This they brought about ; for three 
weeks later Guthrum, their King, came to them, 
with thirty of the worthiest men in the army, at 
Aller, near Athelney. And King Alfred re¬ 
ceived them, and had them baptised at Wedmore. 
They stayed twelve nights with the King, and 
he gave Guthrum and his companion gifts. 

Fro 7 n the Saxon Chronicle. Before 900 A. D. 



THE STORY OF CAEDMON THE 
HERDSMAN POET 


f I ’^HIS is one of the oldest true stories 
I which Alfred the King wrote in Eng- 
^ lish, for at first it was written in Latin 
by Bede, an old English scholar. 

In the Abbey of Whitby lived a certain man 
named Caedmon, who used to look after the 
cattle, and who had grown old within the Abbey 
walls without ever being able to learn to sing a 
song or psalm. And this troubled him greatly, 
so that when he sat at meat with his companions, 
and a song was called for, and the harp was 
passed round to each in turn, he would rise up 
as he saw it coming near him, and go away from 
the table ashamed. 

It so happened that one evening he left the 
feast for this reason, and went out to the 
cow-shed, for he had charge of the cows that 
night. After his work was done, he lay down 
on the ground and slept, when suddenly he saw 
an angel standing by him, who called on him, and 
47 



48 Stories of Early England 

greeted him by name, saying : “ Caedmon, sing 
me something.” Then he answered, and said : 
“I cannot sing, and for that reason I left the 
feast and came out hither, because I know noth¬ 
ing of how to sing.” 

Yet again he who had spoken before said: 

Nevertheless, you must sing to me.” 

“ What shall I sing he said ; and the Angel 
answered : Sing to me the Creation.” 

Immediately Caedmon felt a power stirring 
within him, and he began to sing in praise of God 
Almighty in words which he had never heard 
before. 

Then he awoke, and all the words that he had 
sung in his sleep he held fast in his mind, and 
very soon he had joined together many songs in 
honor of God. When the morning came he 
went to the chief man of that place, and told 
him what a gift he had received; and the chief 
man led Caedmon to the Abbess, and told her 
the whole story. 

Then the Abbess called together all the most 
learned men and their pupils, and bade Caedmon 
relate to them his dream, that they might give 
their opinions as to what his gift was and whence 
it came. Then was it clear to all that this 


49 


The Story of Caedmon 

heavenly gift had been sent him from the Lord. 
So they took him, and told him some holy stories 
from the Bible, and asked him, if he could, to 
turn them into musical songs; and when he un¬ 
derstood them he went home to his house, and 
came again in the morning, and sang them the 
most beautiful song, far better than they could 
have imagined. 

These are the lines with which Caedmon be¬ 
gan his great Poem of Creation : 

Most right it is that we praise with our words, 

Love in our hearts, the Guardian of the Skies, 
Glorious King of all men ; He is Head of all 
His high Creation, the Almighty Lord.” 

When she heard his poetry, the Abbess much 
wished that he should leave worldly things alone, 
and become a monk, which he gladly did. And 
she brought him into the Abbey, and told him 
many of the holy stories of the Bible; and he 
used to remember them and think them over, 
and then turn them into the sweetest songs. 
His songs were so winsome to hear, that his 
teachers themselves used to learn them, and write 
them from his word of mouth. 

D 


50 Stories of Early England 

When Caedmon was a very old man, and the 
time of his departure drew near, he was afflicted 
so little with bodily weakness that he could both 
speak and walk about. Now,, it was the custom 
that all those who were ill or dying should be 
placed in one house that they might be nursed 
together. 

The night before Caedmon died he bade his 
servant prepare a place for him in this house, 
that he might rest there. The servant wondered 
at his request, for no one thought that Caedmon’s 
end was near; ' however, he did as he was 
ordered. 

When all was ready Caedmon went to rest, 
but was so glad of heart, for some reason that 
others knew not, that he was talking and jesting 
with those in the house till after midnight. 
Then, very early in the morning, he asked that 
the Last Sacrament, the “ Houselas it was 
called in those days, might be given to him. 
Then those who were with him were surprised, 
and said : “ What need is there of this ? You 
were talking to us with a cheerful and glad heart 
only a few minutes ago.” 

But he asked for It again, and when he had 
received It, he asked them whether any one of 


51 


The Story of Caedmon 

them bore a grudge against him. Then they all 
answered that they loved him greatly, and that 
no one had ever borne a grudge against him. 

Caedmon was very happy when he heard this, 
and told them all ho\y dearly he loved them. 
Then he asked whether it was the time for the 
Brethren of the Abbey to arise and teach God’s 
people, and sing Matins the first morning serv¬ 
ice. They told him the hour was not far off. 
Then said he : Well, let us await that time ” ; 
and, having prayed, he laid his head upon his 
pillow, and fell asleep, and so, in sleeping, died. 

So ended the life of this good and simple- 
hearted poet, who did God’s will in such a gentle 
way that he himself was released from this life 
in gentle manner, and who had sung so many 
holy words of the love of his Saviour that his 
very last word was also of His praise. 

From King^lfreFs Translation of Bede's Ecclesiastical 
History. Before 900 A. 



A RIDDLE OF CYNEWULF 

(750-790 A. D.) 

OICELESS is my robe when in vil¬ 



lages I dwell, 


When I fare the fields, or drive the 


flood along ; 

Whiles, my glorious garments and this lofty lift^ 
Heave me high above the housing place of 
heroes! 

When the craft of clouds carries me away 
Far the folk above, then my fretted feathers 
Loudly rustling sound, lulling hum along. 

Sing a sunbright song, when stayed to earth no 
more, • 

Over flood and field Fm a spirit faring far. 


Answer— A swan. 


Air. 


52 



THE STORY OF THE FIGHT OF 
BRIHTNOTH 


t I ^HIS is a story, first told in verse, of a 
I fight between the Northmen and the 
-■- English followers of Brihtnoth, a noble 
leader of the West Saxons, at Maldon in Essex. 
The Northmen, or Vikings as they are often 
called, had entered Essex, and, sailing up the 
River Blackwater, had pitched their camp upon 
the bank, and were greatly troubling the land. 

When Brihtnoth knew this, he determined to 
do his utmost to drive the Northmen from 
the land. So he made ready his young warriors, 
and told each how he was to stand, and how to 
hold his round shield fast, and be affrighted 
at nothing. Then, with a band of his own 
special retainers, he went down the river’s brink. 

On the other side of the river stood the 
herald of the Vikings, and this was the message 
he brought to Brihtnoth : 

“ The swift Men of the Sea have sent me to 
tell you this : You may buy your safety with 
money and golden bracelets—but let it be bought 
53 



54 Stories of Early England 

quickly. If you give us these at once we need 
not fight and slay you all, but instead will make 
a peace with you because of your gold, and will 
sail away in our ships.” 

Then Brihtnoth’s mighty breast heaved with 
anger, and he shook his ash stick at the herald, 
and made answer in these brave words : 

“ Hear thou, seafarer, what my people say to 
thee : They will buy their safety with spears, 
with sharp points, and well-tried swords. Tell 
your masters that an Earl with his army stands 
here to defend his own dear land against the 
enemy. Shame it is that you should sail away 
with our gold, knd that we should never strike a 
blow! There shall be hard fighting before we 
sell our lives.” 

Then Brihtnoth bade his men march down to 
the water’s brink to meet the enemy. But be¬ 
fore they could do this the tide came up—for 
the Blackwater was a tidal river—and prevented 
them. So they stood on either side, the throng 
of the East Saxons on one brink and the North¬ 
men on the other, and none of them could reach 
the enemy except those who could reach them 
with their arrows. 

At last the tide went out, and the foemen 


The Story of the Brihtnoth 55 

pressed near, very eager for the fight. Then 
Wiilftsan, a brave young warrior, flung his jave¬ 
lin at the foremost man, and, stepping on to the 
narrow bridge, with two of his companions kept 
it against the foe. When the Northmen found 
that they could not displace them they began to 
try to get the better of them by deceit, and 
asked if they might have leave to bring their 
troops over the water to the opposite side. 

Then Brihtnoth, being in high spirits, gave 
them leave to do so, saying : “ Come straightway 
over to us, for God alone knows who shall win 
this battle.” 

So the Vikings splashed through the water, 
for which they cared nothing, and found the 
host of Brihtnoth drawn up with their shields 
close, so as to form a wall. Then the combat 
began, and very fiercely they fought on both 
sides; while javelins were flung, bows were busy, 
and the watchful ravens circled overhead. 

At last, after he had killed many of the foe- 
men, a dart flung by one of the enemy pierced 
Brihtnoth himself. A young boy named Wulf- 
mer, who was standing by him, snatched out the 
spear, and flung it back again ; but Brihtnoth 
sank to the ground exhausted. Then came up a 



56 Stories of Early England 

wih' fighting man to take from him his bracelets, 
his rings, and his robe, as a sign of having con¬ 
quered him. But the old chieftain snatched out 
his sword, all stained with blood, and smote him 
on the breast, and so slew him. 

Then the weapons fell from Brihtnoth’s hands, 
and his strength went from him. So he called 
to his companions, and bade the youths fight 
bravely on, though he could not stand up with 
them any longer. And he thanked God for all 
his long and happy life, and so gave up his brave 
soul, and died; and Wulfmer was killed at his 
side. 

Then a panic seized some of his followers ; 
and one named Godric fled from the field, and, 
jumping on the back of the horse which stood 
waiting for Earl Brihtnoth, rode off with his two 
brothers to the shelter of the woods. And many 
others, when they saw their flight, forgot their 
good lord Brihtnoth, and also ran away. 

But the young men who were his closest 
friends and followers drew together, determined 
either to die or to avenge their lord; and one of 
them named Alfwin, a very young warrior, 
cheered them, saying: “ How many times we 
have heard bold speeches round the fireside as 



The Story of the Brihtnoth 57 

we sat in comfort at home 1 Now is the chance 
to show who is bold in deed, not only in word. 
For my part, I come of noble kinsmen, and it 
shall never be said of me that I left the battle¬ 
field and sought my home for safety, while my 
brave lord lay dead upon the battlefield.” 

Then another, named Off a, spoke up, and said : 

We ought to fight all the better because Godric 
has so basely betrayed us ; for many of our host, 
seeing Brihtnoth’s horse galloping away, thought 
it was our dear lord who fled from the field.” 

Then all agreed that they would not think of 
flight, but would wipe out the disgrace that Go¬ 
dric had brought upon them, and avenge the 
death of their lord. 

So the battle raged again. Many a brave man 
fell, and amongst them that bold seaman Offa, 
who had pledged his lord either to ride back 
home with him unhurt or to die in battle, lay 
dead by the side of Brihtnoth. Yet still the 
rest fought on, cheering their comrades with 
brave words, such as those of Brihtwold, an old 
soldier, who cried out : 

The mind shall be harder, the heart shall be 
keener, and the courage shall be bolder as 
our strength grows less. An old man am I, 


58 Stories of Early England 

yet from hence will I not stir, but am hoping 
to lie by the side of my well-loved lord.” 

So most of those brave men died upon that 
day, and the Northmen won a great .battle; but 
so hard had been the fighting that they could 
not help respecting their foes, who had preferred 
to fight till they were all killed rather than pay 
money for their safety and their lives. 

From “ The Battle of MaldonT 993 a. d. 


ANOTHER RIDDLE OF CYNEWULF 


(750-790 A. D.) 

I HAVE seen a wight wonderfully shapen 
Bearing up a booty in between his horns, 
A lift vessel flashing light and with loveli¬ 
ness bedecked; . 

Bearing home this booty brought from his 
war-marching! 

He would in the burg build himself a bower. 
Set it skilfully if it so might be. 

Then there came a wondrous wight o’er the 
world-wall’s roof— 

Known to all he is of the earth’s indwellers— 
Snatched away his war-spoil, and his will 
against * 

Homeward drove the wandering wretch! Thence 
he westward went 

With a vengeance faring hastened farther on I 
Dust arose to Heaven, dew fell on the earth 
59 


60 Stories of Early England 

Onward went the night, and not one of men 
Of the wandering of that wight ever wotted 
more. 

Answer —The old and the new moon. 


THE STORY OF ALFRED THE KING 
AND CUTHBERT THE SAINT 

T his legend, or story, tells us how once 
upon a time King Alfred was driven 
from his throne by the Danes, and 
was obliged to hide himself for three years in 
the island of Glastonbury. 

It so happened that on a certain day all the 
men who were with him had gone out to fish, 
leaving only Alfred, his wife, and one servant in 
the house. Presently there came slowly up to 
the door an old pilgrim, or traveller, who begged 
for food. The King, therefore, asked his servant: 

What food have we in the house ? ” His serv¬ 
ant was sad, for food in those days was very 
scarce and hard to come by, and answered: 
‘‘My lord, we have but one loaf of bread and 
a little wine.” Then said the King : “ Give half 
the loaf and half the wine to this poor pilgrim.” 
So this was done, and the pilgrim, after giving 
much thanks to the King, went on his. way. 
When, however, the servant returned to the 
6i 


62 Stories of Early England 

larder he was much surprised, for he found the 
loaf and wine whole, as if they had not been 
touched. Then he reminded the King that there 
was no boat or bridge by which the pilgrim 
could have reached the island, and they both 
wondered greatly. 

In the evening the men who had gone a-fish- 
ing returned with joy, saying : “ See, we have 
caught more fish to-day than in all the three years 
we have lived upon this island.” Then was 
there made a feast with great rejoicing, and all 
were merry. 

•That night, when the King lay upon his bed, 
thinking of what had come to pass that day, he 
saw suddenly a great light shine in the room, 
and in the midst of the light an old man with 
black hair, clothed in the garment of a priest, 
and carrying in his hand a book of the Gospels. 

“ Who art thou .? ” asked the King. 

And he answered : “ Alfred, my son, rejoice ; 
I am he to whom thou didst give thy little store 
of food this day, and I am called Cuthbert, the 
soldier of Christ. Be thou strong and of joyful 
heart, for I will be thy shield and thy friend, and 
I will watch over thee. Now will I tell thee what 
thou must do: Rise up early in the morning, 


The Story of Alfred and Cuthbert 63 

and blow thine horn thrice, that thine enemies 
may hear and be affrighted. And by the ninth 
hour thou shalt have by thee an army of five 
hundred men ready for battle ; be thou, therefore, 
glad of heart, for God has given thine enemies 
into thine hand, and none of them shall ever 
be able to overcome thee.” 

So in the morning the King uprose with 
a glad heart, and sailed across to the mainland, 
where he blew his horn three times. Then 
there gathered together five hundred of the 
bravest and best of his friends, and he told 
them of what Saint Cuthbert had foretold. So 
they went forth to battle, and put their enemies 
to flight, and overcame them. And King Alfred 
became the ruler of a great part of the land 
of Britain, and he ruled wisely over both good 
and evil men for all his days. 


THE STORY OF ALPHEGE THE 
ARCHBISHOP 


^ 1'"^ HIS is another true story from the 
I oldest English history book; it tells 
us of the cruel treatment of an Arch¬ 
bishop by the Danes. 

During the reign of the weak and foolish King 
Ethel red the country was almost entirely over¬ 
run by the Danish army. In vain did the King 
offer to give them money and food if they would 
cease from troubling the country. There was 
no man to tell the people when to fight or when 
to ask for peace, and whether they paid tribute 
to the enemy or not, their land was harried and 
ruined just the same. 

Now about the time of Michaelmas the Danes 
began to besiege Canterbury, and soon after¬ 
wards were able to make an entrance into 
the city through treachery; for a certain man 
named Alfmar, whose life Archbishop Alphege 
had once saved, betrayed it into their hands. 
Then the Danes seized Alphege, together with 
64 



65 


The Story of Alphege 

all the monks of the abbey, and many other 
men, with their wives and children, and stayed 
in the town as long as they liked. When they 
had thoroughly examined it, they went back 
to their ships, and took the Archbishop with 
them; 

So he who lately had been Archbishop of 
Canterbury was now a prisoner, and they kept 
him with them until the day of his martyrdom. 

And about Easter-tide all the greatest men in 
the kingdom brought their tribute to the Danes 
in London, and paid to them a very large sum 
of money. But on the Saturday of that week 
the Danes became very angry with the Arch¬ 
bishop because he would neither give them money 
himself nor let anyone else pay money for him ; 
for he said his money belonged to the Church, 
and that it was not right that they should take it 
from the English. 

So they took Alphege, and led him on the 
Sunday evening to their place of assembly, just 
outside London; and, having drunk much wine, 
they began to pelt him cruelly with the bones of 
the oxen they had eaten. And one of them struck 
him with an iron axe on the head, so that he 
sank to the earth, and died. In the morning 


E 


66 Stories of Early England 

some English folk carried him to London, and 
buried him, with much honor, in St. Paul’s 
Minster; but later on he was buried in his own 
city of Canterbury. 

It seems as if even those heathern Danes were 
a little ashamed of treating an old man in such a 
cruel way, for we read that when the tribute was 
paid they made peace for a time, and dispersed 
their great army ; and forty-five of their ships 
came over and joined the side of the King, on 
condition that he would feed and clothe them. 


THE STORY OF THE QUEST OF THE 
SEVEN CHAMPIONS * 

I. THE SEVEN CHAMPIONS OF ARTHUR 

T hese stories were told in old days to 
British boys and girls as they sat 
round the fireside and heard the wind 
outside swirling among the wild Welsh hills. 
But, no doubt, they crossed the border in time, 
and were told also to the English children, and 
afterwards to still others, who knew and loved 
the charming tales of Arthur and his knights. 

In the days of King Arthur there lived a noble 
young prince named Kilhugh, to whom it had 
been foretold that he should never marry until 
he could win for his wife the maiden Olwen, daugh¬ 
ter of Thornogre Thistlehair, the Chief of the 
Giants. But, though he was full of love towards 
the very name of the unknown maid, he could 
not find out where she lived, nor could anyone 
tell him anything about her. ^ J 

He was not cast down, however, but set off 

upon his steed of dappled gray to seek help from 

.... . :■< , •. 


68 Stories of Early England 

his kinsman Arthur. A fine sight he was, indeed, 
as he rode along on his prancing horse. His 
bridle was made of golden chains, his saddle¬ 
cloth of fine purple, from the corners of which 
hung four golden apples of great value. 

His slung war horn was of ivory, his sword of 
gold, inlaid with a cross that shone like the 
lightning of heaven, his stirrups also of pure 
gold. Two spears with silver shafts were in his 
hand, and two beautiful greyhounds, wearing col¬ 
lars set with rubies, sprang before him *‘like 
two sea-swallows sporting.” So lightly did his 
charger step that the blades of grass did not 
bend beneath his tread. 

At length he came to Arthur’s castle, and hav¬ 
ing with much difficulty satisfied the Chief of the 
Porters of the Gate, a sturdy warrior known as 
the Dusky Hero with the Mighty Grasp, he 
made his way into Arthur's presence, and told 
the King his story. 

“ This one boon I crave of thee, O King,” he 
ended, “ that thou wilt obtain for me Olwen, the 
daughter of Thornogre Thistlehair, Chief of the 
Giants, to be my bride. I ask it of thee and of 
all thy valiant knights, for the sake of all the fair 
ladies who have ever lived in this^ land.” 


69 


The Seven Champions 

Then Arthur said : ‘‘ My Prince, I have never 
heard of this maiden, nor of her kindred, but 
messengers shall at once set forth to seek her 
if thou wilt give them time.” 

So it was agreed that, this being New Year’s 
Day, they should be given until the last day of 
the year for their quest. 

The messengers of Arthur set forth in haste, 
each taking a different way. They travelled 
throughout all the land of Britain, the Island 
of the Mighty,” and then to foreign lands, asking 
as they went: “ Dost thou know aught of 
Olwen, the daughter of Thomogre Thistlehair, 
Chief of the Giants } ” 

But everyone said “ No.” 

At length came the end of the year, and on 
the appointed day the messengers appeared in 
the wide White Hall of Arthur’s castle, and all 
alike declared that they had no news whatever 
to declare concerning the maiden Olwen. 

Then Kilhugh was very angry, and said in hasty 
words : I alone am denied by my lord the gift 
I ask. I will depart from hence at once, and 
take with me the honor of Arthur, whom men 
call the most honorable King.” But Kai, one 
of the knights, reproved him for his angry 


70 Stories of Early England 

speech, and offered to go forth with him and any 
others who would accompany them, saying : 

“We will not part till we have found the 
maiden, or till thou art forced to own she is not 
among those who dwell on this earth.” 

So Arthur chose seven of his knights to go 
forth with Prince Kilhugh upon his quest; 

. First came Kai, whose offer had but just been 
spokenS An excellent spy and sentinel was he, 
for he could make himself as tall as the tallest 
tree in the forest, and so ^an all the country 
round. He could hide himself under water, and 
lie hidden in lake or river for nine days and 
nights if need be. Such fire was in his nature 
that when they needed warmth his companions 
had but to kindle the piled wood at his fingers; 
he could walk through torrents of rain as dry as 
on a summer’s day; he could go for nine days 
and nights without sleep, and no doctor could 
heal the wound made by his sword. 

Next came' Sir Bedivere, close brother-in-arms 
to Kai, the swiftest runner, save Arthur himself 
and one other, in all the land. One-handed was 
he, yet he could give more wounds in battle than 
any three warriors together. 

Then followed Uriel, who understood the speech 


The Seven Champions 71 

of all men and all beasts; and Gawain, who was 
called the “ Hawk of May,” because he never 
returned from any undertaking until it had been 
performed by him. 

The fifth answer to Arthur’s call was Merlin, 
a master of magic, who knew how to put a spell 
upon the knights that would render them in¬ 
visible. 

Last came Peregrine the Guide, who knew how 
to find the way as well in a strange country as 
in his own. 

Go forth, O Chieftains,” said the King, “and 
follow the Prince upon this quest; and great 
shall be the fame of your adventure.” 

So the Seven Champions rode forth through 
the great gates of the palace, and set out with 
high hearts to seek for Olwen, daughter of 
Thornogre Thistlehair, Chief of the Giants. 

I I. HOW THE SEVEN CHAMPIONS FOUND OLWEN 
OF THE WHITE FOOTPRINTS , 

Onward and onward rode Kilhugh and the six 
knights untjl they came at length to a vast plain, 
stretching in every direction farther than the eye 
could reach. Over it they rode, and at length 


72 Stories of Early England 

perceived through the misty air the towers and 
battlements of a great castle far away on the 
borders of the moorland. They rode towards 
this castle all day long, but yet they never 
seemed to get any nearer. 

All the next day they went on riding, and still 
the castle seemed as far away as ever. The 
third evening brought them no nearer. At 
length Sir Gawain exclaimed : “This must be 
Fleeting Castle, which can always be seen 
from a distance, but can never be actually 
reached.’’ 

Now, on the fourth day, to their surprise, the 
castle no longer advanced before them as they 
approached, and soon they were able to draw 
rein before it, and to wonder in amazement at 
the thousands of sheep which fed upon the plains 
surrounding its massive walls. Near by sat the 
shepherd with his dog, tending this enormous 
flock. The shepherd was a giant in size, and 
was dressed in the skins of wild beasts. The 
dog was larger than a full grown horse ; he had 
the shaggiest of coats, and, though an excellent 
sheep-dog, was destructive enough elsewhere, for 
with his fiery breath he would burn up all' the 
dry bushes and dead trees in that region. 


The Seven Champions 73 

The Champions looked somewhat doubtfully 
at this great animal, and Kai suggested to Uriel 
that as he knew all tongues, he had better go 
and speak to the shepherd. 

Not I,” answered Uriel. I agreed when 
we set out to go just as far as thou, and no far¬ 
ther.” 

But Merlin came to them, and explained that 
he had cast a spell over the dog, so that he could 
not hurt them. So Kilhugh and Kai and Uriel 
went together to the shepherd, and asked him 
very politely who owned that countless flock of 
sheep, and who lived in yonder castle. 

“Where have ye lived not to know that 
cried the shepherd. “ Everyone in the world 
ought to know that this is the Castle of Thorn- 
ogre Thistlehair, Chief of the Giants.” 

“ And who art thou they asked. 

“ I am Constantine, the brother of Thornogre 
Thistlehair,” replied the man, with an angry look. 
“ A fine brother indeed has he been to me! He 
has taken from me all my lands and possessions, 
and now I am obliged to earn a living by feeding 
his sheep.” ^ ^ 

Then he asked them why they came, and 
when^ they replied that they were seeking for 


74 Stories of Early England 

Olwen, daughter of Thornogre Thistlehair, he 
sadly shook his head. 

“ Alas ! ” he said, ^‘no one ever tried to find 
her and returned from this place alive. Go back 
at once, lest ye all perish also.” 

That will we never do! ” cried Kilhugh ; and 
the Champions echoed his words. 

Then Constantine inquired who Kilhugh was, 
and when he heard, he cried out that he was his 
own nephew, and begged that he and his com¬ 
rades would spend a night at his house, and to 
this they readily agreed. And as a mark of 
affection Kilhugh gave his uncle a golden ring; 
but it was much too small for the giant, who put 
it forthwith into the finger of one of the gloves 
which hung from his belt as a sign of his rank 
as chieftain. Then he signalled to his dog, who 
immediately began to drive the sheep towards 
home. 

When they reached the house the giant entered 
first, and gave his wife his gloves to hold. She 
soon pulled out the ring, and at once began 
to question him about it; so he told her that 
their nephew Kilhugh, with six comrades, was 
even then dismounting at the door. Then the 
shepherd’s wife was glad, and ran forth with 


The Seven Champions 75 

hands outstretched to clasp him in her arms; 
but so big and strong was she that, as Kai 
quickly saw, no knight could survive her embrace. 
So as she threw her arms round Kilhugh’s neck, 
he snatched up a log of firewood, and pushed it 
into her arms instead of the young prince; and 
when she unloosed it, it was twisted out of 
all shape. It was somewhat to their relief, 
therefore, when she took them into the house 
without further embracing, and set them down 
to supper. This was a very frugal meal, and 
served with great simplicity, for Thornogre had 
not left his brother so much as a silver goblet or 
a single chair in his barren hall. 

When they had supped, the shepherd’s wife 
asked Kai and Uriel to stay behind after the 
rest had gone out to the courtyard, and, taking 
them to the chimney-corner, she opened a great 
stone box. As she lifted the lid, to their amaze¬ 
ment a beautiful boy with golden, curly hair 
rose up from within. 

** Pity indeed,” exclaimed Uriels ** to keep so 
handsome a child shut up here. What hath he 
done ? ” ' 

Then the lady wept, and answered : All my 
three and twenty sons have been killed by 


76 Stories of Early England 

Thornogre Thistlehair, Chief of the Giants ; and 
now my only hope of keeping him alive is to hide 
him in this chest, where he has lived ever since 
he was born.” And she wept to think that her 
boy would never have a chance of doing valiant 
deeds and of becoming a great knight. Then 
Kai bade her be of good cheer and let the lad 
come with them, promising that he should not be 
slain unless he, Kai, were killed as well. 

She agreed to this very gladly, and asked 
them why they had come to that region. But 
when she knew they had come to seek for 
Olwen, she advised them strongly to go home, 
since in that very quest all her three and twenty 
sons had perished. 

They laughed at her fears, however, and 
asked if the maiden ever came to the shepherd’s 
house. 

“ Yes,” said the shepherd’s wife ; “ she comes 
every Saturday to wash her hair. She leaves 
behind her all her jewels and rings in the water 
which she uses, and never asks for them again.” 

Then they begged her to ask fair Olwen to 
visit her at once, and she agreed, on condition 
that they would not carry her off against her 
will. 


The Seven Champions 77 

To this the Champions agreed, and sat wait¬ 
ing in the hall for the coming of the maiden. 

Very fair she looked as she approached, 
dressed in a robe of flame-colored silk, and wear¬ 
ing a jewelled collar of gold round her neck. 

More yellow was her hair than the flower of 
the broom, and her skin was whiter than the foam 
of the wave ; and fairer were her hands and her 
fingers than the blossoms of the wood-anemone 
amid the spray of the meadow fountain. The 
eye of the trained hawk, the glance of the falcon 
were not brighter than hers. Her bosom was 
more snowy than the breast of the white swan ; 
her cheek was redder than the reddest roses. 
Whoso beheld her was filled with love of her. 
Four white trefoils sprang up whenever she trod ; 
therefore was she called Olwen of the White 
Footprints. 

Having entered the house she sat down by 
Kilhugh, who at once' loved her greatly, and be¬ 
gan to pray her to come away with him, and be 
his wife. But Olwen, though she returned his 
affection, answered that she had promised her 
father not to go away without his leave. She 
also told him that Thornogre knew that her bridal 
day w^s fated to be the day of his death, so that 


78 Stories of Early England 

he would withhold his leave as long as possible. 
She advised him, however, to go to her father, 
and to grant him everything he demanded, and 
so in time he should win her hand; but if he 
denied the giant’s least request, he would lose 
both her and his own life. 

When she had said this, she returned to the 
castle. 

III. THE IMPOSSIBLE TASKS SET BY THORNOGRE 
THISTLEHAIR 

The Seven Champions now determined to 
make their way to the castle, and force an en¬ 
trance to the hall of Thornogre Thistlehair, Chief 
of the Giants. It was very dark when they set 
out, but they easily found their way by the trail 
of white trefoils which the footprints of Olwen 
had left. 

The castle was guarded by nine warders at the 
gate and nine watch-dogs along the road which 
led up to it; but a strange silence had fallen upon 
both men and beasts, and the Champions slew 
them all without a sound being heard 

Then they passed through the great door, and 
entered the hall of the castle. 


The Seven Champions 79 

Just opposite the entrance sat Thornogre 
Thistlehair upon a high, wide throne. He was 
terrible to look upon. His eyebrows were so 
long and bushy that they fell over his eyes like 
a curtain, and he was taller and broader than 
three other giants* put together. Close by his 
hand lay three poisoned darts. 

After they had greeted him courteously, he 
asked who they were; and they replied that 
they were come from Arthur’s Court to ask 
that Olwen, his daughter, should marry Kilhugh 
the Prince. Then the giant roared for his pages 
to come and prop up his eyebrows, that he might 
see what sort of a son-in-law was proposed for him. 

So when they had propped up his eyebrows 
he looked angrily at Kilhugh, and bade him come 
the next day for his answer. 

But as they went out of the hall, the giant 
threw one of his poisoned darts at them. Sir 
Bedivere caught it just in time and threw it 
back so neatly that it caught the giant in the 
knee. Then they laughed, and withdrew, leaving 
him to storm at them, declaring that the great 
wound hurt him as much as the sting of a gadfly, 
and that he might never be able to walk quite 
so well again. 


80 Stories of Early England 

At dawn the next day they returned to the 
castle, and again demanded the hand of fair 
Olvven in marriage. But the giant replied : I 
can do naught in this matter till I have consulted 
her four grpat-grandmothers and her four great¬ 
grandfathers. Come again for my answer.” 

So they turned to leave the hall; but as they 
went the giant snatched tip the second of his 
poisoned darts, and flung it after them. Merlin 
caught it deftly, however, and threw it back with 
such force that it entered his chest, and stuck 
out through his back. This left him grumbling 
that never again would he be able to climb a hill 
without losing breath, and fearing lest he now 
might sometimes suffer from pains in the 
chest. 

The third time they visited the giant he was 
on his guard, and shouted to them not to dare 
throw any more darts on pain of death. Then 
he roared to his pages to lift up his eyebrows, 
and when they had done it, he snatched up the 
third poisoned dart, and flung it at them without 
more ado. 

But Kilhugh caught it this time, and cast 
it back at him, so that it pierced one of his eyes. 
Then, while he grumbled that now his sight 


The Seven Champions 81 

would not be so good as before, they went out 
to dine. 

These events made the giant treat his visitors 
on their next arrival with more civility; besides, 
he had no more poisoned darts. He once more 
inquired why they had come, and when he 
realized that Kilhugh was determined to marry 
Olwen, he made him promise that he would do 
all that he required of him in return for his 
agreement to the marriage. Kilhugh, mindful 
of Olwen’s warning that he was to agree to per¬ 
form whatever her father proposed, gave a 
ready promise, and bade him ask away. 

Then did Thornogre Thistlehair propound 
to him forty Impossible Things, of which these 
seven are the chief : 

Firstly, he must gather nine bushels of flax 
sown hundreds of years ago in a field of red 
earth, of which never a seed had sprouted. 
Not one grain of the measure must be missing, 
and they must be sown again in a freshly ploughed 
field to make flax for Olwen’s wedding veil. 

Secondly, he must find Mabon, the son of 
Modron, who was taken from his mother when 
three days old, and had not since been heard of. 

Thirdly, he must find the Cauldron of Cruse- 

F 


82 Stories of Early England 

ward the Cauldron-Keeper, in which, if one tries 
to cook food for a coward, one may wait forever 
for the water to boil, but if for a brave man the 
meal is ready directly it is placed therein. In 
this cauldron must all the food for the wedding 
feast be prepared. 

Fourthly, since the giant must shave for the 
wedding, he must obtain for a razor the tusk of 
the Boar-headed Branch-breaker, which to be of 
any use must be taken from his skull while he 
yet lived. 

Fifthly, since the giant must wash his hair, all 
matted together as it was, for the wedding, 
he must bring to him the Charmed Balsam kept 
by the Jet-Black Sor.ceress, daughter of the 
Snow-White Sorceress, from the Source of the 
Brook of Sorrow, at the edge of the Twilight 
Land. 

Sixthly, that the giant’s hair might be smoothed 
and combed, he must bring the scissors and the 
comb that are found between the ears of Burst- 
ingboar, the Wide-Waster, since they alone would 
perform the operation without breaking. 

Seventhly, he must obtain the sword of Gar- 
nard the Giant, since that alone would kill the 
Wide-Waster, from whom, unless he were killed, 


The Seven Champions 83 

the comb and scissors could never be ob¬ 
tained. 

When he had made an end of speaking, the 
giant jeered at the Prince, who, unless he could 
do all these impossible things, might never wed 
his daughter. But Kilhugh answered with a high 
heart: “ I have knights for my companions, 
horses and hounds, and Arthur is my kinsman. 
I shall do all that thou requirest, thou wicked 
giant, and shall win thy daughter, but thou shalt 
lose thy life.” 

IV. TWO OF THE IMPOSSIBLE TASKS ARE FUL¬ 
FILLED 

Scarcely had the Seven Champions left the 
castle of Thomogre Thistlehair, when they were 
joined by the fair-haired son of the shepherd, who 
had lived all his life in the chest. Eager to make 
a great name for himself he implored them to let 
him' accompany them, which accordingly they 
did. Then they turned their faces towards 
Arthur’s castle. 

At evening-time they reached the gates of a 
very great castle, the largest in the world, and 
as they pulled up their horses before it, an enor- 


84 Stories of Early England 

moLis black giant came out of the gate, and 
1 )nked at them very hard. They greeted him 
]:o]itely, and asked whose castle this was. 

“ ’ Tis the castle of Garnard the Giant,” he 
answered. 

They looked at each other with glee, for one 
of the appointed tasks was to obtain the sword of 
this very giant. Then they asked if he were used 
to treat strangers courteously. 

The black man shook his head. No stranger 
ever entered that castle and came out alive,” said 
he ; “ but ye have little chance of entrance, for 
no traveller is permitted to enter who knows no 
handicraft.” 

The Seven Champions on hearing this rode on 
to the entrance gate, and called for admittance. 
The porter refused, however, saying that there 
was revelry within, and that no man set foot inside 
who did not bring his craft with him. But Kai 
declared that he was a burnisher of swords, and 
that no man could excel him at that trade ; where¬ 
upon the porter went to relate the matter to 
Garnard the Giant. Now, it so happened 
that Garnard had long wished for one who could 
brighten and clean his sword, so he bade the 
porter to admit him. 


The Seven Champions 85 

So Kai entered alone, and was taken before 
the giant, who ordered his sword to be brought 
to him. Then Kai drew out his whetstone, and, 
first asking if he required it to glitter with a blue 
or white lustre, he polished half the blade, and 
returned it to the giant, saying : “ How is that ? ” 
The giant was highly pleased. “If the rest of 
my sword can be made to look like that,” said 
he, “ I shall value it above all my treasures. 
But how comes it that so clever a craftsman is 
wandering about alone without a companion .? ” 

“ But I have a companion,” said Kai—“a cun¬ 
ning craftsman, too, though not at this work. 
Send, I pray you, and admit him. And the 
porter shall know him by this sign : the head of 
his lance shall spring into the air, draw blood 
from the wind, and return to its place again.” 

Then the porter opened the gate, and Bedivere 
marched into the hall, ready for what might be¬ 
fall, and stood watching Kai as he went on 
polishing the sword. This being done, to gain 
more time he asked for the sheath, and he fell 
to mending it and putting in new sides of wood. 

Meantime, as he hoped, while all the porters 
and followers of the giant stood gaping round 
him, the young son of the herdsman had managed 


86 Stories of Early England 

to climb over the castle wall, and to help his 
companions over also, whereupon they were able 
to make their way to hiding-places behind doors 
'hnd pillars, from which they could see the com¬ 
pany in the hall without being seen themselves. 

By this time Kai had finished both sword and 
scabbard, and, stepping up to the giant’s great 
chair, pretended to hand them to him. But, as 
the giant was off his guard, he lifted the sword, 
and brought it down on Garnard’s neck, so that 
he cut off his head. Before his followers could 
lay hands on Kai and Bedivere, the knights 
rushed out upon them, and slew them all. Then, 
having loaded themselves with gold and jewels, 
but above all with the precious sword, they set 
forth again for Arthur’s palace. 

This time they reached it in safety, and, 
having told their story, asked the advice of the 
King as to which of the six remaining quests 
they should first undertake. To seek out Mabori, 
the son of Modron, was Arthur’s decision; and ‘ 
for this undertaking he chose Uriel, because he 
could understand the speech of both animals 
and birds, as well as that of all strange men; 
and Idwel, because he was Mabon s kinsman, 
with Kai and Bedivere, because they were known 


The Seven Champions 87 

never to turn back from any adventure until it 
was accomplished. 

So these four set out upon their quest. 

Now, Mahon had been lost so long ago that 
not the oldest man on earth, nor their great¬ 
grandfathers before them, had ever heard any¬ 
thing at all about him. But Idwel remembered 
that many birds and beasts live much longer 
than the oldest man, so they determined to seek 
out the oldest of these. 

“And who,” said they, “could be older than 
the Ousel of Deepdell } Let us seek her help.” 

So they made their way through a great 
forest till they came to a shadowy place, where 
on a small stone sat the Ousel of Deepdell; and 
her they implored to tell them if she knew any¬ 
thing of Mabon, son of Modron, who was taken 
from between his mother and the wall when he 
was only three days old. 

“When I first came here,” answered the 
Ousel gravely, “ I was but a fledgling. On this 
spot where I now sit stood a smith’s stone anvil. 
Since then no hand has touched it, but every 
evening I have pecked at it with my beak as 
I smoothed niy feathers before sleeping. Now 
all that remains of it is this little pebble upon 


88 Stories of Early England 

which I sit. Yet through all the years that 
have passed while this change took place I have 
never heard of Mahon, the son of Modron. But 
do not despair: I will take you to a race of 
creatures who were made before me, and them 
ye shall inquire of again.” 

Then she took them to a place where, at the 
foot of an ancient oak, lay the Stag of the Fern 
Brake. Of him they once more asked the 
question : “ Dost thou know anything of Mahon, 
son of Modron, taken from his mother when 
three days old ? ” 

The Stag answered : “ When first I came here 
this great forest was a vast plain, in which grew 
one little oak sapling. This sapling became in 
time an oak-tree, and after its long lifetime 
gradually decayed until it became this stump. 
Now, an oak-tree is three hundred years in grow¬ 
ing, three hundred years in its full strength, 
and three hundred years in its decay. Yet in 
all this time I have never heard aught of Mabon, 
son of Modron. But, since ye are Arthur’s 
knights, I will take you to one who was made 
before my time.” Then he led him to the Owl 
of Darkdingle. 

“ When first I came here,” said the Owl from 


The Seven Champions 89 

his dark, cavernous home when he heard their 
question, “ this valley was covered with a vast 
wood. It decayed away, and another grew up, 
and after that had withered away, a third, which 
now ye see. But never have I heard of the 
man whom ye seek. Yet, since ye are Arthur’s 
knights, I will take ye to the oldest creature in 
the world—to the Eagle of the Aldergrove.” 

So thither they went, and when he heard their 
question the Eagle answered : When I first 
arrived, there was a rock in this place so high 
that I could perch on its top and peck at the 
stars; but so long have I been here that now it 
is but a few inches high. Never have I heard 
of this man save once, and that was when I vis¬ 
ited the Lone Lake. There I stuck my claws 
into a salmon, hoping to kill him for my supper; 
but he dragged me into deep water, so that I 
barely escaped with my life. But when I went 
with all my band to slay him, he sent ambas¬ 
sadors, and made good peace with me, and came 
and begged me to take fifty fish spears out of his 
back. He, if anyone can, will tell you what you 
want to know, and I will be your guide to him." 

So they journeyed on till they reach a great 
blue lake, hidden in the depths of the forest, and 


90 Stories of Early England 

there they found the Salmon of the Lone Lake. 
He heard their question, and looking at them 
very wisely, replied : “ Such wrong as I have 
never found elsewhere have I found under the 
walls of Gloucester Castle, on the River Severn, 
up which I travel with every tide. And that ye 
know it is so, come, two of ye, and travel thither 
upon my shoulders.” 

Then Kai and Uriel came down to the water, 
and stood upon the shoulders of the Salmon of 
Lone Lake, who swam with them down the 
Severn, and brought them under the walls of 
Gloucester Castle. 

Hark ! ” said the Salmon ; and as they lis¬ 
tened, a voice was heard from the dungeon wall 
wailing in deepest sorrow and wOe. Then Uriel 
cried : Whose voice is this that moans within 
this gloomy cell.? ” 

“ Alas! ” wailed the voice, “ ’ tis that of Mabon, 
the son of Modron, shut up eternally in the prison 
of Gwyn, son of Nith, King of Faerie. Here I, 
the Elfin Huntsman, ever young, am shut out 
eternally from the sight of wood and fell and 
the joyful chase which is my birthright.” 

“ Canst thou be ransomed with silver and 
gold ? ” asked Uriel. 


The Seven Champions 91 

“ No ” answered Mabon ; if ever I am res¬ 
cued from this cruel place it must be by battle 
and strife.” 

Then Uriel and Kai returned to their compan¬ 
ions. 

Seeing that this was the kind of adventure that 
Arthur loved, they journeyed back to the King, 
and told him all. So he prepared a great army, 
and marched by land to attack Gloucester 
Castle. But while he fought before the gates, Kai 
and Bedivere had sailed down the river on the 
shoulders of the Salmon of Lone Lake, and, 
finding the water-side portion of the Castle unpro¬ 
tected, they broke through the wall, and carried 
off Mabon, the son of Modron, and he returned 
with them to Arthur’s Court. 

V. HOW PRINCE KILHUGH WON HIS BRIDE 

While Arthur and his knights were discussing 
which of the Impossible Tasks should next be 
undertaken, it so happened that a certain prince, 
named Gwyther, who was also one of Arthur’s 
knights, was walking over a mountain in his own 
country, the Land of the Dawn. 

And as he walked, deep in thought, he heard 


92 Stories of Early England 

a sad little cry. Up and down he looked, but 
nothing could he see that could explain such 
mournful cry. But presently it came again from 
under his very feet, and there he saw an ant-hill. 
Inside the ant-hill the little creatures were wail¬ 
ing piteously, for the heath on the mountain¬ 
side was afire, and in a short time their kingdom 
would be all in a blaze. 

Then Prince Gwyther drew his sword, and cut 
off the ant-hill at a blow, and threw it into a 
place of safety. 

“ Our grateful thanks are thine,” cried the 
ants. “ Now tell us what we can do for thee 
in return. Prince Gwyther of the Land of the 
Dawn.” 

The Prince pondered a moment, and then re¬ 
plied : “ All the world knows that Kilhugh, one 
of the Companions of Arthur, seeking the hand 
of the fair Olwen, is required by her father to 
bring him the nine bushels of flax seed sown in 
his field to make the wedding veil for his bride. 
If one grain is missing the marriage will be for¬ 
bidden ; and, though we are Arthur’s knights, 
not one of us can find these tiny seeds. Now, 
can ye do this task for me ” 

'‘That will we joyfully,” cried the ants, and 


The Seven Champions 93 

they made their way in haste to the field of 
Thornogre Thistlehair, Chief of the Giants. 

When evening began to fall they returned to 
the Land of the Dawn, where Prince Gwyther 
had set up a bushel measure. Up its sides they 
climbed, each with a seed in its mouth ; and nine 
times they filled the measure, until only one seed 
was wanting. ’ Tis well,” they cried; the lame 
emmet has not yet come home.” And before 
nightfall the lame emmet toiled up to the bushel 
measure, and dropped in the last seed. 

So the nine bushels of flax seed were taken 
to the castle of Arthur, and given to Prince 
Kilhugh. 

Then said King Arthur: ** Let us now go to 
Ireland to seek for the Cauldron of Cruseward 
the Steward of Odgar, the Irish King.” 

Now, this cauldron, as you will remember, 
was of such a kind that when food for a coward 
was cooked in it the food remained as it was at 
first, but if for a brave man it was ready for eat¬ 
ing directly it was placed in the pot. So it was 
very precious; and when Arthur’s request for it 
was received by Odgar, Cruseward replied in 
wrath : ‘ Not a glimpse of my cauldron shall 
he obtain, even if it would give him all the bless- 


94 Stories of Early England 

ings in the world; much less will I give it him 
altogether.” 

Then Arthur called together his men of war, 
and sailed over ‘the stormy seas to Ireland. 
When the people saw him in battle array, they 
were afraid, and counselled Odgar to receive 
him peaceably. So Odgar sent friendly mes¬ 
sages, and invited him to a banquet in his 
palace. 

Now when the banquet was over, Odgar was 
about to give presents to his guests, but Arthur 
would take nothing. He wanted naught, he 
said, but the Cauldron of Cruseward. When 
Cruseward heard this, he thundered out: “ Nay, 
King Arthur, I will never give it to thee. If 
thou couldst have it for the asking, it would have 
been given at the bidding of King Odgar, not at 
thine.” 

When Bedivere heard this rude reply he was 
very angry, and, rushing upon him, seized the 
cauldron, and set it on the shoulders of Arthur’s 
Cauldron-Bearer. Then swords were drawn, and 
the men of Arthur’s host fell upon Cruseward 
and his followers, and slew them. Thus they 
carried off the cauldron, and bore it, full of Irish 
gold, back to the Island of the Mighty. 


The Seven Champions 95 

After this adventure they set forth to obtain 
the Charmed Balsam that was guarded by the 
Jet-Black Sorceress, daughter of the Snow-White 
Sorceress, at the Brook of Sorrow, on the edge 
of the Twilight Land. And when they ap¬ 
proached the dismal cavern where she dwelt, 
King Arthur was joined by Gwyn of the Twi¬ 
light Land, and Gwyther from the Land of the 
Dawn, who, knowing the Sorceress and her 
power, advised that two of his attendants should 
first be sent into the cave. Directly the first 
appeared the Sorceress seized him by the hair, 
and threw him down, and trampled on him. 
The second dragged her away from him, but 
could do nothing against her, for she kicked 
them and beat them and thrust them forth again. 

Then Arthur would have gone in himself; 
but Prince Gwyn and Prince Gwyther prevented 
him, saying it would not be a fitting adventure 
for so great a king, and persuaded him to send 
in the two Tall Brothers. But these two were 
so ill treated by the Sorceress that they came out 
more dead than alive, and had to be lifted on to 
their horses. Then, when he saw his followers 
so ill used, nothing could keep Arthur back. 
He rushed into the cave, and with one stroke of 


96 Stories of Early England 

his dagger, killed the wicked Sorceress, while 
Kai carried off the Charmed Balsam. 

They next set out to hunt the Boar-headed • 
Branch-breaker; but soon they heard that no 
man could pluck out the tusk from the living 
head of this terrible animal but Odgar, King of 
Ireland. 

With some difficulty they persuaded him to 
accompany them ; but at length the huntsmen 
gathered together, with him at their head, and 
a great hunt for the boar began. The swiftest 
dogs could not bring the animal to bay, until at 
length Arthur’s own hound, Cavall, brought him 
to the ground, and Odgar rushed up to pull out 
the tusk. But he would have been killed, had 
not Kai been there to strike the Branch-breaker 
down directly Odgar had plucked it out. 

There yet remained to seek out the jewelled 
scissors and comb that were between the ears of 
Burstingboar, the Wide-Waster. 

Now, this Burstingboar had laid waste a great 
part of Ireland, so that all men went in terror of 
him; and, that the heroes might not be misled 
about the curious things said to lie between his 
ears, Merlin was sent to Ireland to seek him out 
and see if it were as the giant had said. 


97 


The Seven- Champions 

So Merlin tracked Burstingboar to his den on 
Cold Blast Ridge, and, having changed himself 
into a bird, flew down into a thicket close by. 
From thence he ^ould see the creature lying on 
the ground, with his seven young boars at his 
side, and between his ears twinkled the jewels 
of the scissors and the comb. Then Merlin 
thought it was a sad thing that the heroes should 
lose their lives for such things, and determined 
to try to carry them off himself. So he flew 
upon the head of Burstingboar, and tried to 
snatch up the razor; but all he really got was a 
great bristle. Then Burstingboar rose up in a 
great rage, foaming at the mouth. He could see 
no one; but a fleck of the poisonous foam fell 
upon Merlin, and hurt him so that he never 
quite recovered. 

When he heard this news, Arthur gathered 
together such a number of brave knights and 
squires that the Irish feared he was about to 
attack their land, but when he told them he 
had come to deliver them from the dreaded 
Burstingboar, their joy knew no bounds. And 
so it was arranged that those Irish who had joined 
his host should first attack the boar; then, if he 
still lived, he should be attacked by Arthur’s own 

G 


98 Stories of Early England 

knights; and if by that time he were not slain/ 
Arthur should himself hunt him on the third 
day. 

But the first day and the s^ond saw the boar 
triumphant; and when Arthur took his turn he 
fought for nine days and nights without even 
wounding the creature or one of his cubs. At 
the end of that time all the knights besought 
Arthur to tell them the secret about the boar, 
which all this time he had kept. 

Then Arthur told them that the creature had 
once been a king, but for his sins and his great 
pride had been changed into a boar. And he 
sent Uriel to confer with him concerning the 
jewelled comb and scissors. But when Uriel 
spoke gently to him, bidding him deliver these 
up at the request of Arthur, the boar grew very 
fierce, and said : “Not only shall Arthur never 
even see these jewels, but I with my young ones 
will go forthwith and harry the land of Arthur, 
doing all the hurt to him that we can.” 

When they heard this news all the host arose 
at dawn to prevent them leaving Ireland ; but 
when they looked tpwards the sea, there was the 
boar with his young ones swimming far away to 
the coast of Britain. And before the King could 


99 


The Seven Champions 

cross the Irish Sea, the boars had landed at 
Milford Haven, and destroyed every living thing 
in the neighborhood. 

Then terror fell on all the land, and eagerly 
men looked for Arthur to come to their aid, who, 
when he arrived, set out at once with a crowd of 
mighty huntsmen to kill the beasts. But it was 
exceedingly hard to find the boar, though his 
tracks were well marked by the ruin of flocks 
and men ; and when they did come up with him, 
he slew with his mighty tusks, a full half-dozen of 
Arthur’s followers, and dashed off to a mountain- 
top, where they lost all sign of him : neither man 
nor dog could tell whither he had disappeared. 

At last they heard that the boars were ravag¬ 
ing a valley some miles away. Thither they 
followed, and after a hard struggle they killed 
the young boars one by one. But after a long 
pursuit Burstingboar vanished again^ so com¬ 
pletely this time that the host returned to Corn¬ 
wall, thinking he must have left the land. 

Scarcely had Arthur entered his palace when 
a breathless messenger rushed into the hall. 

“ Arise ! ” he cried. The boar is ruining 
thy domain, trampling down towers and towns, 
uprooting trees, and killing men and cattle on all 


Lof a 


100 Stories of Early England 

sides, and he is now coming over the mountains 
to do the same in Cornwall.” 

Then Arthur made this speech to his followers : 

“ Men of the Island of the Mighty, Bursting- 
boar, the Wide-Waster, has slain many of our 
bravest men, but he shall never enter Cornwall 
while I live. You may do as you please; but 
for me, I will no longer hunt him, but shall 
meet him face to face.” 

Forthwith he posted men at various spots to 
prevent the creature from landing, and then rode 
up to the river’s brink. As he arrived, suddenly, 
with a great rush. Burstingboar sprang out of 
the forest, and tried to cross on his way to Corn¬ 
wall. But Arthur and his companions drove 
their horses into the water, and followed him, and 
somehow or other seized him by his fore feet as 
he scrambled up the bank, and flung him back 
into the river ; and as he fell, Mabon, the son of 
Modron, caught the razor from behind one of his 
ears, and Kenneder the Wild snatched the scis¬ 
sors from behind the other. 

Yet, even while they did this, Burstingboar 
upreared himself from the water, dashed up the 
river-bank, and disappeared. Then all the host 
followed, but they only came up to him when he 


The Seven Champions 101 

had got well into Cornwall. Then a desperate 

fight began. By harassing him all day they 

managed to keep him from ravaging the land, 

and when he tried to get into Devon they were 

too many for him. Over the moors, down the 
.coombs, up the hills, they chased him, till at 
length, being desperate, he turned, and made for 
the sea. In he plunged, but, though the pur¬ 
suing horses stayed their feet at the water’s edge 
those two good hounds, Raceapace and Bound- 
oft, who had followed him so long, could not hold 
themselves back, but plunged in after him into 
the waves. For long the heroes watched his 
course, with those two fierce dogs close behind 
him ; but from that day to this nothing more 
has ever been heard of either Burstingboar or 
the two hounds. 

Now, all the Impossible Tasks had been ful¬ 
filled, and joyfully did Prince Kilhugh ride to 
the giant’s castle to claim his bride. But Thorn- 
ogre Thistlehair looked on in gloomy silence as 
the marvels were spread out before him ; he 
allowed himself to be shaven and combed; but 
though he could not refuse to give the Prince his 
daughter’s hand, he openly said that he did it 
with no good will. Then the herdsman’s son 



102 Stories of Early England 

stood forth, and cried: ‘‘ () giant, three and twenty 
of my brothers thou hast foully slain, and de- 
frauded my father of his heritage. For these 
things thou shalt surely die by my hand to-day.” 

So he dragged him out by his hair to the 
castle battlements, and, being very strong, he 
slew him there, and cut off his head. And the 
castle was given to the herdsman; but Kilhugh 
married fair Olwen, and they were happy ever 
after as long as they both lived. 


Fro7n the “ Mabinogwfty' A Welsh Rofnance, Thir- 
teefith century A. d. 


OLD ENGLISH CHARMS 

I N the days of old the English people were 
great believers in charms—^that is, in verses 
recited in order to obtain some result. 
They were the tokens left in the land of the days 
when every man was heathen, and worshipped 
and feared a great company of gods and god¬ 
desses. These last were often followed by a 
crowd of fierce witch-wives, bringing-all kinds of 
tiresome ills—such as toothache, rheumatism, or 
loss of some valued possession.. The following 
verses are one of the charms spoken against these 
witches, one of whom has just caused a woodman 
to double up with the pain of a stitch in the 
side. His fellow-workmen gather round him, 
and while one holds over him a wooden shield, 
as if to guard him from weapons shot from the 
air, the others sing : 

Loud were they, lo, loud, as over the land 
they rode 

Fierce of heart were they, as over the hill they 
rode. 


103 


104 Stories of Early England 

Shield thee now thy self; from this spite thou 
mayst escape thee! 

Out little spear if herein thou be! 

Underneath the linden stood he, underneath 
the shining shield, 

While the mighty women mustered up their 
strength : 

And the spears they sent screaming through 
the air! 

Back again to them will I s’end another 

Arrow forth a-flying from the front against 
them ; 

Out little spear if herein thou be ! 

Sat the smith thereat, smote a little seax out. 


Out little spear if herein thou be ! 

Six the smiths that sat there— making 
slaughter-spears : 

Out little spear, in be not, spear I 
If herein there hide flake of iron hard, 

Of a witch the work, it shall melt away. 

Wert thou shot into the skin, or shot into the 
flesh, 

Wert thou shot into the blood, (or shot into the 
bone). 


Old English Charms 105 

Wert thou shot into the limb— never more 
thy life be leased ! 

If it were the shot of Esa, or it were of elves 
the- shot, 

Or it were of hags the shots; help I bring to 
thee. 

This to boot for Esa-shot, this to boot for elfin 
shot, 

This to boot for shot of hags ! Help I bring to 
thee. 

Flee, witch, to- the wild hilltop 

But thou—be thoui bale, and help thee the 
Cord ! 

seax: knife 
Esa : goddess 
to boot: to be good for 
hale : well^ strong. 

Probably by Cynewulf Eighth century. 


THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN 


I. THE TALE OF KYNON 

K YNON was the only son of his father and 
mother, and a very brave and daring 
young knight. He thought there was 
nothing in the world too mighty for him to do; 
and after he had achieved all the possible advent¬ 
ures in his own country, he equipped himself 
with horse and armor, and went forth to 
journey in desert and unknown lands. 

One day it chanced that he came to the 
fairest valley in the world, where all the trees 
grew to the same height; a river ran through 
the valley, and a path was by the side of the 
river. He followed this path till midday, and 
travelled along the remainder of the valley till 
evening, and at length came to a large and shin¬ 
ing castle, at the foot of which was a rushing tor¬ 
rent. Before the gates stood two youths with 
yellow, curling locks, wearing golden frontlets 
upon their heads and garments of yellow satin, 
io6 


The Lady of the Fountain 107 

with gold clasps on their insteps. Each of them 
held in his hand an ivory bow, and their arrows 
were winged with peacock’s feathers. Their 
daggers had blades of gold and hilts of whale¬ 
bone, and they played with them as they stood, 
shooting them to and fro. They allowed Kynon 
to pass into the courtyard, and there he saw 
a man, in the prime of life, also clad in a robe of 
yellow satin, and round the top of his yellow 
mantle was a band of gold lace. He received 
Kynon with great courtesy, and at once con¬ 
ducted him into the hall of the castle. In the 
hall sat four and twenty damsels embroidering 
satin at a window, and they were all so very 
fair that the eyes of Kynon were almost dazzled 
at the sight of so much beauty. They rose 
at his coming, and six of them took his horse, 
and unbuckled his armor; six more took his 
weapons, and washed them in a basin till they 
shone like the sun ; another six spread cloths on 
the table and prepared meat ; and the last 
six took off his soiled cloak and doublet, and put 
on garments of fine linen and yellow satin, with 
a broad gold band round the mantle. Then they 
gave him cushions of red linen on which to sit, 
and brought bowls of silver full of water wherein 


108 Stories of Early England 

to wash, and towels, some of green linen, some 
of white. Presently, when all* was ready, they 
sat down to eat at a silver table, with cloths 
of the finest linen, and the meats that were 
brought were of the most delicious flavor in 
the world. 

At length, when the stranger’s hunger was 
appeased, the Man in Yellow began to in¬ 
quire who he was, and what was the cause 
of his journey. 

And Kynon told him that he was trying 
to find out if anyone were his superior, or 
whether he could gain the mastery over all. 
The Man in Yellow smiled, saying: “If I did 
not fear that harm would come to thee I would 
show thee that thou seekest.” 

Then Kynon implored him to make a trial of 
him, and at length the man agreed. “ Sleep 
here to-night,” said he, “and on the morning 
arise early, and take the road upward through 
the valley till you come to the wood by which 
you came. A little way within the wood you 
will find a path branching off to the right. Fol¬ 
low this until you come to a large, sheltered 
glade, with a mound in the centre. On the top 
of the mound you will see a black man of great 


The Lady of the Fountain 109 

size, larger than two men of this world. He 
has but one foot, and one eye in the middle 
of his forehead. In his hand he holds a club 
which no two men could lift. He is exceedingly 
ill-favored to look at, and he is the warden 
of that wood. And round about him you will 
see grazing a thousand wild animals. Inquire 
of him the way out of the glade, and he will 
point out the road which will lead you to that of 
which you are in quest.” 

Next morning Kynon arose very early, and 
rode away. All came to pass as the Man 
in Yellow had said, except that the black man 
was of huger size and his club looked far 
heavier than Kynon had been led to suppose. 
When Kynon saw the thousand animals brows¬ 
ing around the mound, and the black man sitting 
on top of it, he asked what power he held over 
those creatures. 

‘H will show thee, little man,” said he; and, 
taking up his club, he struck one of the stags a 
great blow. The stag brayed loudly, and at the 
sound all the animals came together, as many 
as the stars in the sky, so that Kynon scarcely 
found room to stand. Serpents were there, and 
dragons, and every kind of beast. Then the 


110 Stories of Early England 

black man looked at them, and bade them go 
feed; and they all bowed their heads, and did 
homage to him ere they departed. 

Then Kynon asked the way out of the glade; 
and when the man knew his reason he said 
to him: “Take the path that leads towards the 
head of the glade, and ascend the woody steeps 
until you reach the summit; there you will find 
an open space like a large valley, and in the 
midst of it a tall tree, with branches greener 
than the greenest pine-trees. 

“ Beneath this tree is a fountain, and by 
the fountain a marble slab, and on the slab 
a silver bowl attached by a silver chain. Take 
the bowl, and throw a bowlful of water on 
the slab, and you shall see what will happen. 
And if you do not find trouble in that adventure 
you need not seek it during the rest of your 
life.” 

So Kynon did as he had said, and found the 
fountain, and threw a bowlful of water upon the 
slab. And immediately there came a mighty 
peal of thunder, so that the earth shook. With 
the thunder came a shower of hailstones, so 
heavy that each one pierced to the bone, and 
Kynon could only endure it by placing his shield 


The Lady of the Fountain 111 

over his own and his horse’s head. After that 
the weather became fair ; but when he looked at 
the tree, behold ! there was not a single leaf left 
upon it. Then a flock of birds came, and 
alighted on the tree, and never was heard such 
sweet strains as those they sang; and while he 
was listening to the birds a murmuring voice 
rose through the valley, like a gust of wind, 
\vhich said : 

“Oh knight, what has brought you hither.-* 
What evil have I done to you that you should 
act towards me and my possessions as you have 
this day.? Do you not know that the shower 
to-day has left alive neither beast nor man that 
was exposed to it.? ” 

Scarcely had the voice died away when there 
appeared a knight clad in black velvet, riding a 
coal-black horse, who made a rush at Kynon 
then and there. And the onset was so furious, 
and Kynon so little prepared, that he was over¬ 
thrown. Then the Black Knight passed the 
shaft of his lance through the bridle-rein of 
Kynon’s horse, and, without a glance at his 
fallen adversary, rode off the way he had come. 
There was nothing left for the fallen knight but 
to make his way back to the castle. The black 


112 Stories of Early England 

man jeered aloud at him as he passed through 
the glade, and, with much anger and morti¬ 
fication, the knight hurried on to the castle 
of the Man in Yellow. There he was received 
with the utmost hospitality ; and no one alluded 
to his adventure, nor did he mention it to 
any. On the next day he found, ready saddled, 
a dark bay horse, with nostrils as red as scarlet, 
and, mounted on this, he returned to Arthur’s 
Court. 

I I. THE TALE OF OWAIN 

When Kynon had related at Arthur’s Court 
the story of his adventure with the Black 
Knight, one of his companions, Owain by name, 
said : “ Is it not befitting that one of us go and 
discover this place .? ” 

It is very well to talk about it,” said Sir Kai, 
‘‘but ’tis harder to carry it out.” 

Then Owain went away, and prepared his 
horse and his armor, and very early next morn¬ 
ing he rode away in the direction which Kynon 
had pointed out to him. 

In due time he reached the castle, and was 
kindly received by the Man in Yellow, and set 
down before a very excellent meal. And the 


The Lady of the Fountain 113 

four and twenty maidens seemed even lovelier to 
Owain than they had to Kynon. 

When they asked him his errand Owain re¬ 
plied that he was in quest of the knight who 
guards the fountain; and the Yellow Man, 
though very reluctantly, pointed out the way. 
All happened to Owain as it had to Kynon, 
save that the shower seemed more violent and 
the song of the birds even sweeter than before. 
And as they sang the Black Knight appeared, 
and rode violently upon Owain ; but he was pre¬ 
pared to receive him, and they fought fiercely 
together. Their lances broke with the shock 
of their attack, and, drawing their swords, they 
fought until Owain struck the knight a blow 
which pierced through helmet, skull, and 
brain. 

Then the Black Knight, knowing he had re¬ 
ceived a mortal blow, turned his horse, and fled. 
But Owain pursued hard after him until they 
came to a lordly castle. When they reached the 
gate the Black Knight was allowed to enter; 
but Owain was so close behind that, when the 
portcullis fell, it struck his horse behind the sad¬ 
dle, and cut him in two, carrying away the rowels 
of the spurs which were on Owain’s heels. So 

H 


114 Stories of Early England 

the rowels and part of the horse were outside 
and Owain was shut up inside with the other part 
of the horse between the two gates, for the inner 
one was closed. As the knight stood wonder¬ 
ing what would happen next he saw through an 
opening in the upper part of the gate a street 
facing him, with a row of houses on either side; 
and from one of these houses came out a maid¬ 
en, with yellow, curling locks, dressed in yellow 
satin, with shoes of parti-colored leather. She 
approached the gate, and desired him to open it. 
“Truly, lady,” said Owain ruefully, “I can 
no more open it for you than you can for 
me.” 

“ That is very sad,” said the damsel; “ yet it 
is the part of every woman to do what she can 
to succor you, for you are a loyal squire of 
dames, so I will do whatever is in my power for 
you. Take this ring, and put it on your finger, 
with the stone inside your hand, and close your 
hand upon the stone. As long as you conceal 
it, it will conceal you. Presently, when they 
have consulted together, they will come to fetch 
you, in order to put you to death, and will be 
much upset when they cannot find you. But I 
shall sit on the horse-block yonder, and you will 


The Lady of the Fountain 115 

see me though I cannot see you. Come, there¬ 
fore, and put your hand upon my shoulder, that 
I may know you are near; and whichever way I 
go, do you follow me.” 

So Owain vanished from the sight of men, and 
sorely grieved were his foes when they came to 
seek him and found only part of his horse. But 
he found the maiden, and laid his hand upon her 
shoulder; and she led him to a splendid chamber, 
where even the nails were painted in beautiful 
colors, and there she gave him abundance of 
food in silver dishes, and left him to rest. Now, 
on that night the nobleman who owned the castle, 
whom Owain had so grievously wounded, died; 
and the maiden of the golden locks presently 
brought Owain to a window from whence he 
might see the funeral procession. And foremost 
among the mourners walked the Countess of that 
domain. She was so very beautiful that Owain 
fell deeply in love with her, and said to the 
maiden: “ Verily, there goes the woman I love 
best in the world.” 

‘‘Truly,” said the maiden, “she too shall love 
thee not a little, and I will go woo for thee.” 

So the maiden, whose name was Luned, went 
to the chamber of her mistress the Countess, 


116 Stories of Early England 

and found her weeping, because now the Black 
Knight was slain, there was no one to defend her 
dominions. For so it was that, so long as the 
fountain was safe, all was well, but if that were 
not defended, all her lands would soon be lost. 

Then Limed said : “ Surely you know that no 
one can defend the fountain except he be a 
knight of Arthur's household. Let me go to 
Arthur’s Court, and I will bring back with me a 
warrior who can guard the fountain as well as, or 
even better than, he who kept it formerly.” 

That will be a hard task, ’ said the Countess. 
** Go, however, and make good that which thou 
hast promised.” 

But Limed did not go to Arthur’s Court ; she 
went instead to the chamber of Owain, and, hav¬ 
ing warned him to wait until it was due time, hid 
herself as long as it would have taken to travel 
to the Court. 

Then she brought Owain a coat and mantle 
of yellow satin, on which were bands of broad gold 
lace; and for his feet shoes of softest leather, 
fastened by golden clasps in the shape of lions ; 
and thus they proceeded to the chamber of the 
Countess. 

But when they arrived, the Countess looked 


The Lady of the Fountain 117 

steadfastly upon Owain, and said: “ Limed, 

this Knight has not the appearance of a travel¬ 
ler. ” 

“ Well, lady, he is none the worse for that,” 
said Limed. “ I am certain,” said the Countess, 
“ that this is the man who killed my master, the 
Black Knight. ’ 

“So much the better for you, lady,” replied 
lAined, “ for if he had not been stronger than your 
master, he could not have killed him. There is 
no use in crying over spilt milk.” 

Then the Countess looked again on Owain, 
and when she saw he was a very goodly knight, 
and courageous withal, she began to return his 
affection for her ; and soon afterwards they were 
married. So Owain defended the fountain with 
lance and sword ; and whenever a knight came, 
there he overthrew him, and ransomed him for 
his full worth, and what he then obtained he 
divided among his barons and his knights, so 
that he became very much beloved. And so 
three years passed away. 

III. THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF OWAIN 

When three long years had passed away. King 
Arthur began to get very sad because he heard 


118 Stories of Early England 

nothing of his good knight Owain. And vyhen 
the others saw his sadness they suggested that 
he and the men of his household should go and 
seek Owain. So they set off ; and Kynon was 
their guide. They spent the night at the castle 
of the Man in Yellow, and he and his twenty-four 
damsels waited upon them with the utmost hos¬ 
pitality. In the morning they set off for the 
wood, and, passing the black mart, tfiey came to 
the fountain. Then Sir Kai begged that he 
might throw the water on the slab and receive 
the adventure that first befell. All happened as 
before, save that several of the attendants were 
killed by the hailstorm; and as they stood 
listening to the song of the birds, a knight clad in 
black satin, riding on a coal-black horse, spurred 
up to Sir Kai, and in a few minutes Sir Kai was 
overthrown. 

Then the knight rode off, and the host of 
Arthur encamped as darkness drew on. 

The next day Sir Kai met the Black Knight 
again, and this time was wounded very sorely. 
Then each of the knights in turn fought,.and all 
were overthrown save one, and he was called 
Gwalchmai. The fight between him and the 
Black Knight was very fierce, but at length a 


The Ladv of the Fountain 119 


heavy blow broke the helmet of Gwalchmai, and 
showed his face. And, behold, the Black Knight 
threw down his sword, and embraced him, saying: 
“ Little did I know that you were my cousin 
Gwalchmai. ” Then did Gwalchmai know the 
voice of Owain, and embraced him, and brought 
him to Arthur, and everyone was glad to see the 
long-lost knight again. 

So all the company proceeded to the castle of 
the Countess of the Fountain, and there partook 
of a great banquet, which had been three years pre¬ 
paring ; for Owain had always said that Arthur 
would come to seek him. And when all was 
over Arthur prepared to depart, but first he sent 
a message to the Countess, begging her to per¬ 
mit Owain to go and visit him for the space of 
three months. 'So Owain departed, though 
much against the will of his Countess ; and when 
he was once more among his kindred and friends 
he forgot all about his wife and the People in 
Yellow, and stayed away three years instead of 
three months. At the end of these three years, 
as Owain sat one day at meat in the royal city of 
Caerleon-on-Usk, there rode through the door¬ 
way of the hall a damsel on a bay horse covered 
with- foam, wearing a bridle and saddle of gold-; 


120 Stories of Early England 

and the damsel was clad in a robe of yellow 
satin. She came up to Owain, and, taking the 
ling from off his hand. “ Thus,” she said, “ shall 
be treated the deceiver, the traitor, the faithless, 
and the disgraced.” 

Then she turned her horse’s head, and rode 
away. 

Then was Owain deeply ashamed and sorrow¬ 
ful ; and on the next day he left the Court, and 
wandered to the distant parts of the country and 
to waste places and barren mountains. And he 
stayed there until his clothes were worn out, his 
body wasted away, and his hair grown long. His 
only companions were the wild beasts with whom 
he fed, and they grew to love him as their friend; 
but after a time he became so weak that he could 
no longer abide with them, so he descended from 
the mountains into the fairest park in all the 
world, which was said to belong to a widowed 
Countess. 

One day the Countess and her maidens were 
walking by a lake that was in the middle of the 
park, when they saw in the pathway the pros¬ 
trate figure of a man. At first they thought he 
was dead ; but they went near, and touched him, 
and found there was life in him, though he was 


The Lady of the Fountain 121 

very much exhausted. So the Countess returned 
to the castle, and, sent one of her maidens with 
a flask full of precious balsam to the sick man, 
together with a horse and a good suit of clothes, 
and said : 

“ Go with these, and place them near the 
man we saw just now. Anoint him with the 
balsam near his heart, and if there is still life in 
him he will arise through the strength of the bal¬ 
sam. Then watch what he will do.” 

The maiden departed, and forthwith poured 
the whole of the balsam on Owain, and left the 
horse and the garments close by, and hid herself, 
and watched what would happen. Presently he 
began to move his hands, then his arms, and then 
all at once he rose up, and was ashamed to see 
how ragged and dirty he looked. Then he per¬ 
ceived the horse, and the garments ; so he washed 
in the lake, and crept to the horse, and with diffi¬ 
culty clothed himself, and clambered on to the sad¬ 
dle. Then came the maiden from her hiding- 
place, and he was rejoiced to see her, and asked 
her to whom the park belonged. 

“ Truly,” said she, “ a widowed Countess owns 
park and castle, which are all that are left to her 
of two noble earldoms left to her by her late hus- 


122 Stories of Early England 

band. All the rest has been taken from her by 
a neighboring Earl because she refused to be¬ 
come his wife.” 

“ That is a pity,” said Owain. And the maiden 
conducted him to the castle, and brought him to 
a pleasant room, and left him there. Then she 
went to the Countess, and gave her back the flask. 

Ha! damsel,” said her mistress, “where is all 
the balsam ? ” “ Have I not used it all ? ” said she. 
“O maiden,” said the Countess, “thou hast 
wasted for me seven-score pounds’ worth of oint¬ 
ment on an unknown stranger. However, now 
that he is here, wait thou upon him' until he is 
quite recovered.” 

So the maiden tended Owain, and gave him 
meat and drink and medicine until he was well 
again. And in three months he was as comely a 
knight as ever he had been before. One day he 
heard a great tumult in the castle, and asked the 
maiden the cause thereof. She told him that the 
Earl whom she had mentioned before had come 
against the Countess with a large army to force 
her to marry him. “ Has she a horse and arms 
to spare.? ’ asked Owain. “ She has the best in 
the world,” said she. 

“ Then go and beg the loan of them,” saM 



The Lady of the Fountain 123 

Owain, ** that I may go and have a look at this 
Earl.” “ I will,” said the maiden. So she made 
her request to the Countess ; but the lady 
laughed a bitter laugh, and said : “ He may as 
well have them to-day as my enemy to-morrow; 
but I know not what he would do with 
them.” 

Then they brought out a beautiful black horse, 
with a beechen saddle, and a suit of armor for 
man and horse; and Owain armed himself, and 
rode forth, attended by two pages. When they 
came in sight of the enemy they could not see 
where the army ended, it was so great; but 
Owain asked where the Earl himself was, and 
when he was pointed out, he sent the pages back 
to the castle, and rode forward till he met the 
Earl. And Owain was now so strong that he 
drew the Earl completely out of the saddle, and 
turned his horse’s head towards the castle, and, 
although it was no easy task, brought the Earl to 
the gate. When they had entered, he gave the 
Earl as a gift to the Countess, and said to her: 
** Lo, here is a return to you for your wondrous 
balsam.” 

Then the Earl restored to the Countess her 
two earldoms in ransom for his life, and for his 


124 Stories of Early England 

freedom he gave her half his own domains and 
all his jewels and gold and silver. 

After this Owain departed from the castle, 
though all honored him greatly and begged him 
to stay with them. But he was still ashamed 
and sorrowful at heart, and preferred rather to 
ride forth into desert places again. 

One day, as he was journeying through a 
wood, he heard a great uproar, and, riding for¬ 
ward, found a great craggy mound, on the side of 
which was a gray rock. In the rock was a cleft, 
and in the cleft a serpent ; and near by stood a 
black lion, and every time the lion moved to go 
hence the serpent darted towards him to attack 
him. 

Then Owain unsheathed his sword, and struck 
the serpent, and cut him in two, and went on his 
way. But, strange to say, the lion followed him, 
and played about him like a dog. All that day 
they travelled together ; and at night Owain dis¬ 
mounted, and turned his horse loose in a woody 
meadow. And he kindled a fire, the lion bring¬ 
ing him wood enough to last for three nights. 
Then the lion disappeared, and after a while re¬ 
turned bearing a fine, large roebuck, which he 
laid before Owain ; and when it was skinned and 


The Lady of the Fountain 125 

roasted, it made an excellent supper for them 
both. As he was eating, he heard a deep sigh 
near him, which was repeated three times. 

“Who is there.?” asked Owain. “A mortal 
maiden,” was the reply. “ Who art thou ? ” he 
asked again. And the voice replied: “ I am 
Limed, the handmaiden of the Countess of the 
Fountain. In this stone vault am I imprisoned 
on account of the knight who came from 
Arthur’s Court and married my Countess. For 
a short time only he stayed with her, and then 
went away, and has never returned—and he was 
the friend I loved most in the world. And one 
day two of the pages of the Countess’s chamber 
reviled him, and called him ill names, and I told 
them that they two were not a match for him 
alone. Then they imprisoned me in this stone 
cell, and said I should be put to death unless he 
came himself to deliver me by a certain day—and 
that is the day after to-morrow. But I have no 
one to send to seek him for me. And his name 
is Owain, the son of Urien.” 

Then Owain said : “ Art thou certain that if 
the knight knew all this, he would come to your 
rescue.? ” 

“ I am most certain of it,” said she. 


126 Stories of Early England 

So Owain bade her hope for the best, and 
meantime bade her tell him if there were any 
place near, where he could get lodging for the 
night She bade him follow the river, so he rode 
along till he came to a very fine castle. 'The 
Earl who ruled over the place received him very 
hospitably, and good fodder was given to his 
horse. But the lion went and lay down in the 
horse’s manger, so that none of the men of the 
castle dared to approach him. Meantime Owain 
had been brought in to supper; and very soon 
the lion came, and sat between his knees, and 
shared his food. Then Owain noticed that every¬ 
one in the castle was very sorrowful. The Earl 
sat on one side of him, and his fair young 
daughter on the other ; and he never saw anyone 
look as sad as they. 

In the middle of supper the Earl began to bid 
Owain welcome, adding: Heaven knows it is 
not thy coming which makes us sorrowful, but 
we have good cause for care.” 

How is that.? ” asked Owain. 

“I have two sons,” replied the Earl, '*who 
went yesterday to hunt upon the mountains. 
But on the mountains lives an evil monster who 
kills men and devours them, and he has seized my 


The Lady of the Fountain 127 

sons; and to-morrow he will bring them here, 
and devour them before my eyes, unless I will 
deliver my sweet daughter into his hands. He 
has the form of a man, but the strength of a 
giant, and no one can do aught against him.” 

“Truly this is a hard case,” said Owain. 
“ And what wilt thou do ” 

“ Heaven knows,” said the Earl. “ But I can 
never give up my young daughter to be destroyed 
by him; yet I cannot bear to lose my two brave 
sons.” 

So no more was said, and Owain stayed there 
that night. 

Next morning a great noise was heard as the 
giant entered the courtyard, dragging behind him 
the two youths by the hair of their heads. Then 
Owain put on his armor, and went out to fight 
the giant, and the lion followed him. The giant 
made a great rush upon the knight; and the 
lion fought on Owain’s side, more fiercely than 
his master. At length the giant said : “ I could 
easily settle this business with you, were it not 
for the animal that is with you.” So Owain shut 
the lion up inside the castle walls, and went back 
to fight the giant as before. But the lion heard 
that it was going ill with Owain; and he roared 


128 Stories of Early England 

very loud, and climbed up till he reached the top 
of the castle, and then sprang down from the 
walls, and joined his master. And very soon he 
gave the giant such a stroke with his' paw that 
the monster fell down dead. 

Then the Earl was full of gratitude, and begged 
Owain to remain with him; but he would only 
stay one more night, and on the morrow set out 
for the meadow where Luned was imprisoned 
in the mound. When he reached the spot, he 
found a great fire kindled, and two youths with 
curling auburn hair were leading the maiden forth 
to cast her in the fire. 

Why are you treating her thus ? ” asked 
Owain. 

They told him of the compact that was between 
them concerning the maiden. “ Owain has failed 
her/’ said they, “ therefore she must be burnt 
according to our agreement.” 

“Well,” said Owain, “ I know him for a good 
knight, and if he had known of the maiden’s peril 
he would have come to her rescue; but if you 
will accept me in his stead I will do battle for 
her.” 

This was agreed ; and the fight began. But 
the two were together stronger than Owain, and 


The Lady of the Fountain 129 

he was hard beset. Then the lion came to his 
help, anc} they two were stronger than the young 
men. So they said to him : “Chieftain, we did 
not agree to fight with thy lion, but only with 
thee.” Then Owain shut the lion up in the 
stone vault where the maiden had been imprisoned 
and blocked up the entrance with stones, and re¬ 
turned to the fight. But he was weak from loss 
of blood, and the young men pressed hard upon 
him ; and the lion roared like thunder when he 
heard that his master was in trouble, and he 
burst through the wall, and rushed upon the 
young men, and slew them both. 

So Luned was saved, and glad was she when 
she found it was Owain indeed who had come to 
her rescue. Together they sought the dominions 
of the Countess of the Fountain ; and she and 
Owain and the lion and Luned all lived happily 
together for the rest of their lives. 


From the “ Mabinogion: 



THE STORY OF KING LUD 


K ing LUD was King of Britain, and a 
very mighty warrior. He built for 
himself a fine castle, and lived in it 
most part of the year. It was called Caer Lud, 
and afterwards Caer London, but . after the 
stranger race came to Britain it was just called 
London. Lud had a brother, Llevelys, whom 
he loved very dearly; and he married a princess 
of France, and ^became King of that land, and 
ruled it well and happily. Now, after some 
years three dismal plagues fell upon the island 
of Britain, such as no other land had ever known. 
The first was the plague of the Coranians. 
These Coranians were a certain people who 
knew every word that was said upon the island, 
however low it might be spoken, if only the wind 
met It. And because of this they could not be 
injured, for they knew all their enemies’ plans 
beforehand. 

The second plague was a terrible shriek that 
came on every May-eve over each hearth in the 
130 


The Story of King Lud 131 

island of Britain. And the shriek pierced through 
the hearts of all, so that men lost their valor 
and strength, and women and children and young 
men and maidens their senses, and all the an¬ 
imals and trees and earth and waters were left 
barren. 

The third plague was that whatever store of 
food and provisions might be laid up in the King’s 
court, even if so much as a whole year’s supply 
of meat aftd drink, none of it could ever be 
found except what was consumed in the first 
night. 

Then King Lud was very sad at heart, be¬ 
cause he knew not how to free his ?and from the 
dismal plagues. He called together all the 
nobles of his kingdom, and asked counsel as 
to what he should do in the midst of these 
afflictions. And they all advised him to go to 
France and seek the advice of Llevelys his 
brother. King of that land. So they made ready 
a fleet in secrecy and silence, lest the Coranian 
race should learn the cause of their journey; 
and Lud, with some of his chosen followers, set 
his face towards France. When Llevelys saw 
his brother’s ship approaching, he went out 
to meet him, and embraced him with much joy. 


132 Stories of Early England 

Then King Lud told him the purpose of his 
errand ; and King Llevelys thought awhile, and, 
being very wise, soon discovered the cause 
of those dismal plagues. But they dared not 
talk freely about them to each other, lest the 
wind should catch their words, and the Coranians 
have knowledge of their discourse. So Llevelys 
caused a long horn to be made of brass, and 
through this horn they discoursed. But what¬ 
ever words they spoke into the horn one to the 
other, neither of them could hear anything but 
harsh and unfriendly words. 

Then Llevelys saw that there was a demon 
in the horn thwarting all their purposes, and 
caused wine to be put in to wash it out; and 
through the virtue of the wine the demon was 
driven away. 

When this was done, Llevelys told his brother 
through the horn that he would give him some 
insects, which he must take and bruise in 
water. And when he returned to his kingdom 
he must call together all the people, both of his 
own race and .the Coranians, as though with the 
idea of making peace between them. And when 
they were all together he must take the charmed 
water made with the bruised insects, and cast it 


The Story of King Lud 133 

over all all^ke. And the water would poison the 
race of the Coranians, but it would not harm 
those of his own people. 

“ The second plague,” he said—“ that of the 
weird shriek—is caused by a dragon. Another 
dragon of a foreign race is fighting with it, and 
striving to overcome it, and for this reason does 
your dragon make a fearful outcry once every 
year. This must you do to rid yourself of this 
plague: cause the island to be measured in 
its length and breadth, and in the place where 
you find the exact central point, cause a pit 
to be dug; and in the pit you must place a 
cauldron full of the best mead that can be made, 
with a covering of satin over the face of the 
cauldron. Then remain there watching, and 
presently you will see the dragons fighting 
a terrific fight. Presently they will take the 
form of dragons of the air; and lastly, when 
they are worn out with the fury of their fighting, 
they will fall upon the covering of the cauldron 
in the form of two pigs, and they will sink 
in, and the covering with them, till they reach 
the bottom of the cauldron ; and they will drink 
up all the mead, and after that they will go 
to sleep. Then you must immediately fold the 


134 Stories of Early England 

covering around them, and shut them up in the 
strongest vessel in your dominions, and hide 
them deep in the earth. And so long as they 
shall bide in that strong vessel no plague shall 
come from elsewhere upon the island of Britain. 

“The third plague,” continued Llevelys, “is 
caused by a mighty magician, who takes your 
meat and drink and stores of provisions. 
Through his illusions and charms he causes 
everyone to sleep. Therefore must you watch 
your food yourself. And, lest he should over¬ 
come you with sleep, have a cauldron of ice-cold 
water by your side, and if you begin to get 
drowsy, plunge into the cauldron.” 

Then Lud thanked his brother for his good 
counsel, and returned to his own land. And first 
he summoned a meeting of all the people, both 
of his own race and that of the Coranians ; and 
he bruised the insects in water, and cast it over 
the heads of all of them. Immediately it de¬ 
stroyed all the race of the Coranians ; but his 
own people were hurt not at all. 

And this was the end of this first dismal 
plague. 

Then he caused the land to be measured in its 
length and its breadth ; and he found the cen^-. 


The Story of King Lud 135 

tral point in Oxford, and in that place he caused 
the pit to be dug and the cauldron of mead to be 
placed, with a covering of satin over the face of 
it. There he presently beheld the dragons fight¬ 
ing ; and when they were weary, they fell into 
the mead under the shape of pigs, and when they 
had drunk up all the mead, they slept. And 
Lud folded the covering round them, and hid 
them in the strongest place he had on Snowdon. 
And so the fierce shriek ceased to be heard in 
his dominions ; and this was the end of the 
second dismal plague. 

When this was all ended. King Lud caused a 
very great banquet to be prepared in the Court. 
And when it was ready, he placed a cauldron 
of ice-cold water by his side, and sat down to 
watch over the banquet. And about the third 
watch of the night he heard sweet music and 
gentle songs, which lulled him to sleep. But 
when he found himself getting very drowsy, he 
went often into the ice-cold water. At length a 
man of great size, clad in strong, heavy armor, 
came in, bearing a hamper ; and into this hamper 
he began to put all the food and provisions of 
meat and drink, and proceeded to go forth with 
it. And King Lud was so stupefied with aston- 


136 Stories of Early England 

ishment that one hamper could possibly hold so 
much, that he had almost let him go. At last, 
however, he recovered his senses, and rushed 
after him, and cried : “ Stay, stay. Though thou 
hast done me many insults and stolen much spoil 
ere now, yet shalt thou do so no more, unless thy 
skill in arms be better than mine.” The magi¬ 
cian instantly put down the hamper, and rushed 
upon him; and they fought so desperately that 
fire flew from their arms. At length the victory 
was to Lud, and he threw the plague to the earth. 
Then the magician besought him for his life, and 
promised to serve him as his vassal and put all 
his power in the hands of the King, if he would 
release him ; and to this King Lud agreed. 

And this was the end of the third dismal 
plague. From that time forth King Lud reigned 
in peace and happiness in the island of Britain. 


From the “ Mabinogion^ 


THE TALE OF TALIESIN 


T EGID VOEL and Caridvven his wife 
lived on an island in the midst of Lake 
Tegid. [Nowadays the lake is called 
Bala, and there is no island to be seen.] They had 
an elder son, a fair and comely youth, and a very 
beautiful daughter; but their youngest son was 
uglier than anyone in the whole world. This 
troubled his mother Caridwen at first; but she 
said to herself : “ If he cannot be handsome, he 
shall, at any rate, be very learned.” Now, Carid¬ 
wen was a witch, so she set to work to boil 
a Cauldron of Knowledge, of which the boiling 
must not cease for a year and a day. At the 
end of that time it would yield three drops 
of precious liquid, which would make whoever 
drank it wise for the rest of his life. She set 
Gwion Bach, who was passing by, to stir the 
cauldron and a blind man named Morda to keep 
up the fire underneath; but, fearing that Gwion 
Bach had seen what she put into the cauldron, 
and would tell her secrets to others, she made up 

137 


138 Stories of Early England 

her mind to kill him directly he had done 
his work for her. 

Now, one day, as the end of the year drew 
nigh, while Caridwen was in the fields gathering 
herbs, it chanced that the three magic drops 
flew out of the cauldron, and fell on the finger 
of Gwion Bach. They scalded his hand so that 
he promptly put it to his mouth, and sucked his 
fingers; and immediately he became very wise, 
and knew all that Caridwen meant to do to him, 
and his need of guarding against her wily plots. 
He fled from the house, therefore, and ran 
towards his own land; and the cauldron, left 
unstirred, burst in two, and the poisonous liquid 
ran out of the door, and into a stream where the 
horses of Gwyddno were drinking; and when 
they had drunk of the poisoned water they 
all died. 

When Caridwen returned, and saw the year’s 
work was lost, she took up a billet of wood, and 
began to beat the blind man, Morda. But 
he answered : You do wrong to beat me ; the 
loss was not because of me.” 

“ You speak truly,” said Caridwen. It was 
Gwion Bach who robbed me.” And she set to 
running after him as fast as she could. He soon ' 


The Tale of Taliesin 


139 


looked back, and saw her, and changed himself 
into a hare; for the magic liquid had given him 
many different kinds of skill. But as he fled, 
she changed herself into a greyhound, and had 
nearly caught him up when he ran towards 
a river and changed himself into a flsh. Then 
she became an otter, and chased him till in his 
weariness he took the form of a bird. But 
she at once changed herself into a hawk, and 
gave him no rest in the sky. 

Just as he was in fear of death, he saw a heap 
of grains of wheat on the floor of a barn ; so he 
dropped among them, and became one of the 
grains. Then Caridwen changed herself into a 
high-crested black hen, and scratched among the 
grains till she found him. She was just about 
to swallow him, when, with his last remaining 
effort of skill, he became a very beautiful little 
child, and when she looked at him she had not 
the heart to kill him on the spot. So she took 
her own form again, and, having put the child 
into a leathern bag, she cast him into the 
sea just below the weir of Gwyddno, which 
is not far from Aberystwith, on the 29th of 
April. Then Caridwen returned home again, 
and thought no more of the matter. 


140 Stories of Early England 

Now, it had been the custom on every May- 
day eve to go fishing in that weir, and every year 
fish were taken to the value of a hundred pounds. 
Its owner, Gwyddno, had an only son named 
Elphin, the most unlucky of youths, who was 
always needing and never getting. This year his 
father, pitying his ill-fortune, granted to him 
all the weir should contain on May-day, in order 
to give him something wherewith to begin the 
world. So the nets were set to catch the fish 
below the weir, and next day Elphin hurried to 
see how many they had caught. But the nets 
were quite empty, and nothing was to be found 
but a leathern bag which had caught in one of 
the poles of the weir. Then said one of his 
.companions : “ Men were unfortunate before, 
but never so much as now, when your luck has 
turned away the fish from a weir that has been 
worth a hundred pounds every May-eve till now, 
when there is nothing but ,a skin in it.'’ 

“ Perhaps,” said Elphin, the bag may have 
something in it that is worth a hundred pounds.” 
So his friend hooked up the bag, and opened it, 
and there peeped out the bright face of a little 
lad. See, what a bright face within the bag ! ” 
cried his companion. And Elphin said: “ Let 


The Tale of Taliesin 


141 


him be called Taliesin, then” (which means 
** bright or shining face ”), and lifted the child 
gently on to his horse, and made it walk softly, 
and went homeward with a very heavy heart. 
ir But, as he rode along, the boy behind him sang 
to him a song of consolation so sweetly that 
Elphin was much amazed, and asked how he had 
learnt so beautiful a song. The child replied 
that, though he was very little, he was notwith¬ 
standing very wise. 

Then Elphin asked if he were a mortal child 
or a spirit; upon which the boy sang another 
song, telling what he had been, and how he had 
fled from Caridwen, and how he came to be en¬ 
tangled in the weir. 

When Elphin reached the house of his father, 
the latter asked him if his haul were good. 

** Father,” he answered, I have caught a poet- 
minstrel.” 

Alas! what good will that do thee ? ” said 
Gwyddno. 

And Taliesin answered for himself : He will 
do him more good than the weir ever did for 
thee.” 

Then Gwyddno looked at him, and said : ** Art 
thou able to speak when thou art so little ? ” 


142 Stories of Early England 

And the child replied : “ I am better able to 
speak than thou to question.” “ What canst thou 
say ? ” asked Gwyddno. Upon which Taliesin 
sang a song of such wondrous beauty, that every 
one hastened to the spot to hear the marvellous 
child. 

Soon afterwards Elphin, with his usual ill luck, 
managed to offend the powerful King Maelgwn, 
who cast him into a dungeon barred by thirteen 
locked doors. But when father Gwyddno was 
lamenting his son’s ill fate, the child Taliesin 
bade him be of good cheer, since he was going 
to rescue him. Setting off at daybreak he 
reached the King’s palace at the time of the 
evening meal, and entered the hall just as the 
bards were beginning to sing the praises of 
the King, as was their custom every evening. 
Then Taliesin cast a spell upon these bards, so 
that instead of singing they could only pout out 
their lips and make mouths at the King. He 
forced them also, by his magic power, to tap 
their fingers on their mouths, as they tried in vain 
to sing, making a curious sound like “ Bler-m! 
Bler-m ! ” 

The King, naturally, thought they were treat¬ 
ing him with great disrespect, and ordered 


The Tale of Taliesin 143 

one of his squires to give a blow to the chief 
bard; and the squire took a broom, and struck 
him on the head, so that he fell back on his 
seat. This rough treatment seemed to bring 
him to his senses, and he then explained that 
they could not help themselves, but had been 
put under a spell by a spirit, who was sitting 
in a corner of the hall under the form of a child. 
So the King ordered the squire to fetch the 
child; and Taliesin, nothing loth, was brought 
up to the head of the table. Being asked who 
he was and whence he came, he at once proceeded 
to sing another wonderful song, in which he in¬ 
formed them that he was the chief bard of 
Elphin, that his native country was the land of 
Cherubim, but that at present he was dwell¬ 
ing upon this earth, and might even stay 
here until the Judgment Day. 

The King and his nobles marvelled greatly, 
for they had hitherto never heard the like 
from a boy so young as he. But as he was 
the bard of Elphin, who had offended His 
Majesty, the King determined that his own bards 
should get the better of him in song. So he 
ordered the chief bard to stand forth, and then 
all the four and twenty of them, to strive with 


144 Stories of Early England 

Taliesin. But when they came forward to do 
his bidding they could do no other than play 
Bler-m ! Bler-m ! ” on their lips. 

Then the King, angry and disappointed, asked 
the boy Taliesin his errand. 

And the child replied in song : “ I am come 
to deliver Elphin, who is imprisoned in this 
castle, behind thirteen locks.” 

“ I will never let him go,” said the King. 

Then Taliesin foretold that there should come 
up from the sea-marshes a wonderful golden 
worm, which would take revenge upon the King 
for his cruelty; but, finding his threat had 
no effect, he turned, and left the hall. Outside 
the castle he sang a charm to the wind, bid¬ 
ding it blow open the prison of Elphin; and 
while he thus sang, near the door, there suddenly 
uprose such a storm of wind that the King and 
his nobles crouched in terror, expecting that the 
castle would fall upon their heads. Directly he 
realized that this was the work of the mysterious 
child-bard he sent for Elphin from the prison, 
and implored Taliesin to stay the wind-storm, 
which he accordingly did. So Elphin was 
brought into the hall, loaded with chains ' at 
sight of which Taliesin sang another charm song. 


The Tale of Taliesin 


145 


and the chains immediately fell off his hands and 
feet. By this time the King was so full of 
admiration for the skill and wisdom of the boy, 
that he begged him to take the spell off his own 
bards, and to test them with questions. 

So Taliesin set them free from his charm, and. 
then began to rain questions upon them. 

“ Why is a stone hard ” 

Why is a thorn sharp-pointed ? ” 

‘‘ What is- as salt as brine ? ” 

Who rides the gale ? ” 

** Why is a wheel round ? ” 

“•Why is the speech of the tongue different 
from any other gift.?’■ 

These were some of the questions he put,, 
and ended with : “If you and your bards are 
able, let them give an answer to me, Taliesin.” 

But none of them could answer a single word. 

Then the King dismissed them all with 
scorn ; but still he would not let Elphin go free 
away. - -- 

Then Taliesin bade Elphin wager the King 
that he had a horse both better and swifter than 
the King’s horses. The King accepted the 
challenge, and fixed day and time and place for 
the wager to be tried, and promised him his 
J 


146 Stories of Early England 

freedom if he should win the race. The King 
Went thither with all his people and four and 
twenty of the swiftest horses he possessed. The 
course was marked out and the horses placed 
for running. Then came Taliesin with four and 
twenty twigs of holly, which he had burnt 
black, and he bade the youth who was to ride 
his master’s horse to place them in his belt. 
Then he ordered him to let all the King’s horses 
get before him, and, as he should overtake one 
horse after another, to strike the horse with 
a holly twig over the crupper, and then let that 
twig fall, and then to take another twig, and do 
the same to every one of the horses as he should 
overtake them. 

Moreover, he bade the horseman to watch 
carefully where his own horse should stumble, 
and to throw down his cap on the spot. All 
this was done, and, behold! each horse that was 
struck with the holly twig began to lag behind, 
and the horse of Elphin easily won the race. 
When all was over, Taliesin brought his master 
to the spot where his horse had stumbled, and 
Ordered workmen to dig a hole there ; and when 
they had dug deep enough they found a cauldron 
full of gold. Then said Taliesin : Elphin, take 


The Tale of Taliesin 


147 


thou this as a reward for having taken me out of 
the weir and reared me from that time until 
now.” 

So Elphin went home to his father a rich man, 
and the work of Taliesin was accomplished. 

From the Welsh Romance of Taliesin. Thirteenth 
century. 




OLGER THE DANE 


I. HOW OLGER BECAME CHAMPION OF FRANCE 

L ong ago, in the days when Denmark 
and England were almost like one coun¬ 
try, the palace of the King of the Danes 
was dark and gloomy, and the sound of weeping 
and wailing rose within its wall; for the fair 
young Queen, whom all the people loved, had died 
in giving birth to a son. When she was dead, 
they took the babe from her arms, and, having 
called him Olger, they carried him away to the 
royal nursery, and laid him on a quilted bed of 
down, and left him there alone. But ere long 
a sound of rustling was heard in the silent room, 
and there assembled around the bed six beautiful 
fairies, who smiled and kissed their hands to him ; 
and the babe smiled back in return. 

Then the Fairy Glorian took the child in her 
arms, and kissed him, and said : My gift to 
you is that you shall be the strongest and brav¬ 
est knight of air^your time.” 

148 



Olger the Dane 149 

‘‘ And mine,” said the Fairy Palestine, “is that' 
you shall always have battles to fight.” 

“ No man shall ever conquer you,” promised 
the Fairy Pharamond. 

“ You shall ever be sweet and gentle,” said 
Meliora. 

And Pristina added : “ You shall be dear to 
all women, and happy in your love.” 

Then Morgan le Fay, who was Queen of all 
the fairies, took the boy in her arms, and pressed 
his head to her bosom, saying : “ Sweet little one, 
there are few gifts for me to give you ; but this 
shall be mine: You shall never die ; and after 
you have lived a life of glory here you shall be 
mine, and shall dwell with me for ever in Avalon, 
the land of Faery.” Then she kissed him many 
times, and laid him back upon the bed ; and with 
soft rustling of wings the fays departed. 

Ten years had passed away, and Olger had 
grown a brave, strong boy, and comely to look 
upon. 

At that time it befell that the Emperor Charles 
the Great sent a message to Godfrey, King of 
Denmark, and father of young Olger, to bid him 
come and do homage for his lands ; to which 
King Godfrey, being a stout and stalwart man, 


150 Stories of Early England 

made bold answer : “ Tell Charles I hold my 
lands of God and of my good sword ; and if he 
doubt it, let him come and see. Homage to him 
I will not do.” So Charles the Great came up 
against him with a mighty army, and after long 
fighting King Godfrey was defeated, and forced 
to promise to appear before the Emperor every 
Easter to do allegiance. And, fearing lest he 
would not keep his word, the Emperor de¬ 
manded that young Olger should be given to him 
as a hostage. To this King Godfrey agreed ; 
and the boy was carried off to the Emperor’s 
Court, and there instructed in all the arts and 
learning of the time, and so grew up an accom¬ 
plished and handsome youth. 

For three years King Godfrey appeared each 
Easter to do allegiance ; but in the meantime he 
had married again. And when another son was 
born to him, his new wife persuaded him to cease 
to humble himself before the Emperor, for she 
hoped that by this means Olger would be put to 
death, and her own son would inherit the king¬ 
dom. So on the fourth Easter the King of Den¬ 
mark appeared not at the Court ; and so they 
took young Olger, and threw him into the prison 
of the Castle of St. Omer, until messengers should 


Olger the Dane 151 

find out why King Godfrey had broken his 
pledged word. 

Now, the keeper of the castle was very good 
to the young man, who also found much favor 
in the eyes of his wife, and those of Bellisande, 
his daughter, who loved him from the first mo¬ 
ment he appeared. 

Instead of a gloomy dungeon Olger was placed 
in a rich apartment, hung with beautiful tapestry, 
and Belisande herself was proud to wait upon 
him. 

Meantime the messengers of Charles had met 
with a shameful reception at the hands of God¬ 
frey, King of Denmark. Their ears and noses 
were slit, their heads shaven, and they were 
driven from the kingdom. Full of shame and 
wrath they appeared at the Court of their master, 
and cried loudly for revenge against Godfrey, and 
against his son Olger, since he stood as hostage 
for him. The Emperor at once gave orders that 
the lad should be put to death; but the keeper 
of the castle implored the Emperor not to insist 
upon instant execution, but at least to grant 
that the young knight should be brought before 
the Court and told why he must suffer death. 
To this the Emperor agreed; and as he sat at a 


152 Stories of Early England 

great feast among his nobles there entered Olger, 
and kneeled meekly at his feet. When Charles 
saw how fair a youth he was, and how gently he 
humbled himself for his father’s pride, he was 
moved with pity and compassion. Many of the 
nobles, too, were in favor of the lad, and would 
have begged the Emperor to save his life ; but 
the rage of the messengers was so great that 
they would have torn him to pieces, had not 
Duke Naymes of Bayiere kept them back. 

Then Olger looked up at the Emperor, and said: 

“Sire, you know that I am innocent in this 
matter, and that I have always been obedient to 
you. Let me not suffer for my father’s fault, but, 
since I am his true heir, let me pay the homage 
and allegiance which he refuses, and grant that 
1 may atone for him by a life of devotion and 
service in your cause. And for your messengers, 
I will from this moment do all in my power to 
recompense them for the cruel indignities they 
have suffered at my father’s hands, if you will 
but spare my life and use it in your service.”' 

Then all the barons began to beg the King to 
grant the boy’s request; and in the midst of the 
discussion a mounted knight rode into the hall, 
crying: 


153 


Olger the Dane 

Tidings, my lord King! Ill tidings for us 
all! The Soudan and the Grand Turk and Dan- 
nemont his son, .with the help of King Caraheu, 
have taken Rome by storm, and Pope, cardinals, 
and all have fled. The churches are destroyed ; 
the Christians put to the sword. Wherefore, as 
a Christian king and pillar of paitK I summon 
yourto march to the aid of Holy Church.” 

Then, as all was bustle and confusion in pre¬ 
paring a great army to take the field imme¬ 
diately, Duke Naymes prevailed upon Charles to 
let him take young Qlgcr to the battle as his 
squire, promising to give all his lands, and him¬ 
self as prisoner, to the Emperor, if the boy should 
flee away. So Charles, agreed, and hastened to 
prepare for the, fight, swearing that he would not 
return to. his own land till Rome should be re¬ 
stored to the Christians. The. first, thing Olger 
did when he recovered,his freedom, was to hasten 
back to, the castle and wed, the fair Bellisande; 
and when she wept at losing her young husband 
so soon, he.comfortediher, and ,said: ** Weep,not, 
for God has given me life and you have given me 
love^and these two gifts will strengthen me to do 
great feats of arms.” 

So Olger rode: off with the host, following the 


154 Stories of Early England 

standard of Duke Naymes and his two brothers, 
Geoffrey and Gautier. And they marched till 
they came to Rome, and took their station 
on a hill before the city with an army of two 
hundred thousand men. 

Then the host of paynims came forth from 
the city to the battle; and Olger, hearing the 
din of war, the neighing of horses, and the 
shouting of men, longed to dash into the thick 
of the fight; but his master forbade him, and 
charged him to remain among the tents. 

From this position Olger watched with wild 
anxiety the' standard of King Charles as it 
waved in the forefront of the battle. He saw the 
armies come together and heard a crash that 
rent the sky. Then the standard waved in 
triumph ; but suddenly it fell—then rose again ; 
and anon he saw with horror that the band 
of the Emperor’s chosen knights had been 
repulsed, and that Sir Alory, the standard-bearer, 
had turned his horse, and was fleeing for his 
very life. In a moment Olger had rushed down 
the slope, and, flinging himself on the bridle 
of Sir Alory’s horse, he snatched the standard 
from his hand, crying : “ Coward, go home with 
all the speed you may, and live among women 


Olger the Dane 155 

for the rest of your life, but leave the noble 
banner, Refuge of France, with me." 

The terrified Alory was easily disarmed; and 
Olger, ordering a squire to dress him in the 
standard-bearer’s armor, sprang on a horse and, 
sword in one hand and banner in the other, 
rushed into the thick -of the fight. 

He soon found that Duke Naymes and many 
other nobles had been held prisoners* behind the 
array of the paynims, and, with the fierceness of 
a young lion^ he cut his way through to them, cut 
their bonds with his sword, and forced a way 
through the enemy both for himself- and for them. 
And wtterever he appeared among the heathen 
host, he slew so many that he was protected, as 
it were, by a rampart of the dead. Presently he 
heard the King cry loudly for help, and, spurring in 
the direction of the sound, found that Dannemont 
had killed his horse under him, and that he was 
down, and hard pressed on every side. Then 
Olger, waving the standard on high, rushed 
upon the paynim, and soon cleared a free space 
about the King, and mounted him on a frosh 
horse. And in the same way on three separate 
occasions he saved the life of Charles. At 
length, with Olger at their head and the battle- 


156 Stories of Early England 

cry of ‘'Montjoy” on their lips, the King and 
his host drove the paynim back to the city 
gates. 

When the fight was over, the Emperor 
Charles ordered the standard-bearer to be brought 
before him ; and when Olger appeared, with his 
visor closed, he thought it had been Alory, and 
^aid to him : “ Aloty, though with grief I saw 
you flee at the onset, you have most nobly 
redeemed your honor. Three times have you 
saved my life, and I know not how to reward 
you fitly. I will make you ruler of any province 
you may choose in iny kingdom, and you shall 
be my lieutenant, and fight in my quarrel in all 
disputes touching the .crown of France.” 

'But a squire who stood by spoke up, and 
said: “Sire, this is not that Alory of whom you 
' speak. He bowed the colors, and fled for his life, 
at the first onset; but this young knight seized 
the standard from his hands, while I helped 
to dress hfm in Alory’s armor ; but who he is'" I 
knbw riot.” 

Then Olger took'’off his helmet, and knelt 
down, arid said : “ Have jl)ity, sire, on Godfrey, 
^ King of Denrriark, and let his son atone for his 
offence and be your faithful vassal in his stead.” 


157 


Olger the Dane 

And the Emperor embraced him, and said : 
‘‘ You have changed all former hate into love for 
you. I give you your request. Rise, Sir Olger, 
Champion for France and Charles, and God be 
with you.” 

Thus Olger became a knight, and all the nobles 
of France came to salute him and thank him for 
their deliverance. On the next day, proud in his 
new-made knighthood, Olger once more bore the 
standard against the foe, and the paynim fell like 
corn before the scythe wherever he appeared. 
And when the flanks began to waver, then there 
rode into their midst a knight on a great horse, 
who did such mighty deeds on their behalf that 
they knew him for their Champion, and crying: 
“ Olger ! Olger the Dane ! ” they made many a 
mighty charge upon the foe. 

When Sadonne, the paynim general, heard 
that the tide of battle was going against his army, 
he rode forth to meet his followers with the news 
that Caraheu, Emperor of India, with thirty 
kings, was coming to their aid. But soon he met 
the whole array fleeing, panic-stricken, towards 
him in full flight, and crying> “ Save yourselves, 
for Michael the Archangel fights against us! ” 
Then, before Sadonne had time to flee, his path 


158 Stories of Early England 

was crossed by the dread knight on the great 
horse, and at once he threw down his arms, and 
begged for life. 

“ What is your name ? ” said Sir Olger. 

I am Sadonne,” answered he, the general 
of Caraheu, Emperor of India.” 

“ On one condition only will I grant you your 
life,” said Sir Olger: “You must bear to Cara¬ 
heu my challenge to fight with me in single com¬ 
bat, so that by this the course of the war may be 
determined.” 

So Sadonne departed, and next day Caraheu 
arrived at the pavilion of Charles the Emperor 
with a gorgeous retinue, and with him he 
brought the beautiful Gloriande, the fairest lady 
in all the Eastern world. Her hair was like spun 
gold, and fell to her feet like a cloak. It was 
bound about her temples by a jewelled circlet of 
the rarest gems, and her dress of whitest damask 
sewn with pearls had taken full nine years to 
weave. 

Then Caraheu the Emperor, said: “I am in 
search of Olger the Dane, who has demanded 
single combat with me. His challenge I accept, 
and fair Gloriande, my promised bride, shall be 
the victor’s prize.” 


159 


Olger the Dane 

But Chariot, son of the Emperor Charles, 
looked with envy on Olger, and said: “ ’ Tis 
meet that you, great Caraheu, should fight, not 
with my father’s bondsman, but with me.” 

“ Not I,” replied the Emperor. “ I fight not 
with braggarts, but with men. Sir Olger rules 
the hearts of men, which is nobler far than ruling 
over lands.” 

“ Nay, Emperor,” said Olger modestly ; “ Char¬ 
iot here is the Emperor’s son, and worthy to 
fight with the highest.” 

“ Let him fight with Sadonne, my general,” 
said Caraheu. “ I will joust only with you.” 

So a double combat was arranged, and Glori- 
ande sat in a place from which she could 
strengthen the combatants with the glances of her, 
bright eyes. For half a day they fought without 
either getting the upper hand, until Sadonne 
killed Chariot’s horse, and courteously leapt from 
his own in order to fight upon equal terms. But 
the base-minded Chariot only pretended to fight 
until he reached the place where Sadonne’s steed 
was standing, and, leaping on it, he rode away, 
like a coward and recreant knight. 

Meantime the good sword of Caraheu had cut 
through Sir Olger’s shield and armor, and 


160 Stories of Early England 

would have done worse harm had not the knight 
with his great strength dragged Caraheu from 
his horse, and disarmed him. But Dannemont, 
the paynim, had hidden three hundred men 
among the bushes of that place to see how the 
combat went. And when he saw Caraheu at 
piger’s mercy, he rushed forth at the head 
of his men, and began to attack the knight. In 
vain did Caraheu rail at them for their treachery, 
and fight with all his strength on Olger’s side, 
crying : Shame on ye, traitors ! Better death 
than this ! ” Numbers overpowered them, and 
Olger’s life was only saved at the request of the 
fair Gloriande. He was loaded with chains, and 
thrown into a dungeon, in spite of all that Cara¬ 
heu could say or do on his behalf. At length, 
angry and disgusted at this foul blot on his 
honor, the latter left the paynim army, and 
went over with all his men to the side of 
the Emperor Charles, determined to go on fight¬ 
ing against the paynim until Olger was delivered.* 
But Gloriande, who, according to' the fairy gift, 
had loved Olger from the first moment she saw 
him, went in secret to his prison, loosed his 
chains, and let him escape to the camp of 
Charles. Then Charles and Olger and Caraheu 


161 


Olger the Dane 

joined together against the paynim host, and ere 
long Rome was freed from her enemies. Then 
Olger rescued Gloriande, and gave her to Cara- 
heu to be his wife. In Rome were they baptized 
and married, and returned to India a Christian 
man and woman. But ere he departed, he gave 
to Olger his famous sword, Courtain, saying: 

My life and my bride both have you won, and 
both you have given back to me ; take, therefore, 
this sword as a pledge that I owe all to you.^’ 

11. THE VENGEANCE OF OLGER 

When Olger returned to France he found 
that his wife was dead. This grieved him very 
sorely, but he was comforted somewhat by 
the sight of the little son who had been born to 
him meantime. And he called his name Bald¬ 
win. 

Now, at this time the paynim had come down 
upon Denmark, and had harried all the land. 
And they shut up King Godfrey in his own 
castle, and besieged it so that he nearly died of 
famine. Then the Queen said : Surely this 
trouble is come upon us for Olger’s sake, whom 
we left to die.’"' And they began to repent of 
K 


162 Stories of Early England 

their wickedness, until at length, becoming very 
low and miserable, they sent a message to King 
Charles, begging him to forgive them, and to 
send them help. But the Emperor replied: 
“ No ! Since Godfrey holds his lands of God 
and of his good sword, let him hold them. I 
will not lift a hand to help him.” Then he sent 
for Olger, and said: You would not wish 

to help a traitor—one, too, who left you to die 
for his crimes.?” But Olger knelt before the 
King, and said : Sire, as vassal I kneel here 
before my King; but Godfrey is my father, and 
my duty is to go to his aid. Surely the King 
will not forbid a son his duty! ” 

Then Charles was moved, and said : “ Go ; 
but go alone, save with your body-servants. 
No man of mine shall fight in the cause of a 
rebel and traitor.” 

Then Olger hurried to his father’s castle with 
thirty of his men ; but ere he could reach it. 
King Godfrey had been slain by his foes, and 
they were even then fighting over his body when 
Olger rode up. 

It was not long before Olger, with his good 
sword Courtain, had scattered these paynim far 
and wide, and soon after they left the country in 


163 


Olger the Dane 

despair of conquering such a hero. Then Olger 
was made King of Denmark, and ruled there for 
five years ; and when he had settled the land and 
made good laws, he returned to the Emperor 
Charles, and, kneeling before him, said: “ The 
son of Godfrey, of his own free will, thus pays 
homage to King Charles for all the land of 
Denmark.” 

The King embraced him warmly at these 
words, and begged him to remain as long as pos¬ 
sible at the Frankish Court. Now, one day the 
little Baldwin, Olger’s son, a fair-headed child 
whom all good men looked upon with favor, 
was playing chess with Chariot, son of the 
Emperor; and it came to pass that, having 
quickly given “ fool’s mate” to the prince, the 
boy began to laugh at him for his bad play. Then 
Chariot, who had always hated Olger, and was 
jealous of young Baldwin, took up the heavy 
chessboard, and beat the child on the head, so 
that he fell lifeless to the ground. 

When Olger returned from the hunt and found 
his little son lying dead, he was beside himself with 
grief. He covered the child with tears and kisses, 
and then, making his way to the Emperor’s pre*s- 
ence, he laid the boy before his throne, saying: 


164 Stories of Early England 

“ Sire, look upon your son’s foul deed.” 

The Emperor was sorely grieved ; but he tried 
to comfort Olger, saying he would give half his 
kingdom if it would bring the child to life again, 
but that he knew well that nothing could make 
up for such a loss. 

Then Olger said very sternly : “ There is no 
compensation, but there is punishment to be 
given. Grant me now to fight with your son, 
and so avenge my poor child’s death.” 

“Nay,” said the Emperor; “for how, then, 
could he have a chance of life ? ” 

“ What matters that ? ” cried Olger, with bit¬ 
ter look. “ What is your son more than mine .? 
I demand that he be given up to me.” 

“ I cannot do it,” said the Emperor. 

“ Then,” cried Olger in great wrath, “ till you 
learn justice, sire, we part company.” And forth¬ 
with he left the Court, and took service with a 
Lombard king who was fighting against King 
•Charles. 

For the next few years Olger the Dane won 
great renown by his warfare against the Franks, 
for wherever he went he was always the victor 
and his enemies began to look upon his good 
sword Courtain, and Broiefort, his great black 


165 


Olger the Dane 

steed, with awe and terror. Many of the Franks 
said openly, that to let Olger depart and to make 
him their foe, had been no wise deed, for he came 
upon them like a blight upon the summer corn. 
At length they made a plot against him, and de¬ 
termined to get the better of him by foul treach¬ 
ery. So they watched him privily, and found him 
one day, tired out with fighting, lying fast asleep 
by a fountain, with his arms scattered far and 
wide, and his good steed Broiefort grazing peace¬ 
fully by his side. Then one seized his horse, and 
another his weapons, and they bound him fast 
while he still lay sound asleep. 

When Sir Olger was brought to the Court as 
a prisoner, the Emperor wished to slay him, be¬ 
cause he feared the vengeance of Olger on his 
son, and in return for the harm he had done to 
the Frankish cause. But the knights and barons 
would not hear of this, sayiiig that they had lent 
themselves to treachery to save their native land, 
but that the life of the noblest knight in Christen¬ 
dom should not be lost thereby. So he was put 
into prison, and kept under a strong guard for 
several years. 

Now, after these days did Achar, King of 
England, land in France to do homage to 


166 Stories of Early England 

the Emperor for his lands; and with him came 
his fair daughter Clarice. But as he journeyed 
to the Court a certain Saracen giant named 
Bruhier arrived with a great army to make war 
upon the Franks, and he seized the persons 
of Achar and his daughter, and marched to fight 
against the Emperor. And so great was the 
power of this giant that the Frankish army 
could not stand before him, but fled before 
his face. Then the barons alid knights began 
to implore Charles to release Olger from his 
prison and prevail on him to fight for them, and 
forthwith the Emperor went himself to the 
prison to implore his aid. But Olger would not 
listen for a moment to this proposal, unless the 
Emperor would first deliver Chariot the prince 
into his hands. For a long time ‘ the Em¬ 
peror would not agree to this ; but at length his 
whole army reproached him, saying : “ Have 
you no care for us that you let us die by thou¬ 
sands in a hopeless fight ? Why should a thou¬ 
sand die for one.?” 

So Charles was forced to deliver up his son. 

Then, as Chariot begged and prayed for 
mercy, Olger thought only of his fair-haired 
little boy, and, taking the prince by the hair, 




167 


Olger the Dane 

raised Courtain to strike off his head. But 
as he did so a voice from the air cried: “ Stay 
thy hand, Olger the Dane ! Slay not the son of 
the King! ” and at the same rnoment vivid 
flashes of lightning came about them both. 
Then the sword fell from Olger’s hand, and all 
who had heard the voice trembled and greatly 
feared. The King, in his joy at the deliverance 
of his son, would have poured out his gratitude 
to the Dane; but Olger only said: “ Your 
thanks are due to God, not to me. I do but 
bow to His will.” And that day the King and 
Olger were made friends. 

But when the Dane would have made ready 
to fight against the Saracen,, he found that 
nothing had been heard or seen of his good norse 
Broiefort for seven long years, and all men 
believed him to be dead. The Emperor sent 
him his best charger in his :Stead, but scarcely 
had the knight leaped into the saddle when 
the creature fell beneath his weight; Ten other 
of the finest horses in the land were tried, and, 
finding that none could carry him, Olger de¬ 
clared that he must go afoot. But a certain 
man was found who said he had seen the horse 
Broiefort dragging blocks of stone for the building 


168 Stories of Early England 

of the Abbey of St. M'eaux, and immediately a 
little band rode off to bring the horse back 
to his master. They found him but skin and 
bone, his hair worn off his^sides, his tail shorn to 
the stump, his skin galled by the shafts, a very 
scarecrow of a horse, yet dragging a load that 
four other horses could not stir. They brought 
him to Olger with all speed; and when the 
sturdy knight leaned upon him, he did not 
cringe under the weight, but straightened him¬ 
self, and, knowing his master, snorted and 
neighed with joy, and pawed the ground, and 
knelt down humbly before him on the grass. 

So Olger went to battle upon Broiefort, and 
wherever he went he won the day. He slew the 
giant Bruhier, drove the Saracen from the land, 
and rescued King Achar, and his daughter Clar¬ 
ice, whom the King of Britain gave him for his 
wife. And when they were married, they crossed 
the sea, and Achar made Olger King of Britain 
in his stead. For many years he ruled this 
country, and there his faithful Broiefort died 
and was buried. At length he grew weary of 
peace, and went to fight for the Holy Cross in 
Palestine ; and there he fought many a hard 
battle, and won many a victory, till he was old 


169 


Olger the Dane 

and gray with years. Then he left the Holy 
Land, and set sail for France that he might see 
Charles the Great and his Court once more 
before he returned to Britain, there to end his 
days. 

But on that journey there came upon them a 
great storm ; and the tempestuous wind drove 
the ship in which Olger was far away from the 
rest, into strange seas, without rudder, oars, 
or mast; and a strong current seized the vessel, 
and crashed it against a reef of loadstone rock. 
All who were on board leaped, into the waves, 
and were soon dashed lifeless against the beach; 
only Sir Olger remained upon the deck in the 
black darkness, gazing out upon the stormy sea. 
He bared his head, and, drawing Courtain, 
kissed the crossed hilt, and thanked God for the 
courage given him as a soldier all hi^ life, and 
then quietly awaited death. 

III. THE RETURN FROM AVALON 

Darker and wilder grew the nightf when, just 
as the waves seemed about to overwhelm the 
ship, a voice from the air cried, clear and strong : 
“ Olger, I wait for thee. Come, and fear not 


170 Stories of Early England 

the waves.” And immediately he cast himself 
into the sea, and was borne on the crest of 
a great billow high up in the air, and placed in 
safety among the rocks. A weird light shone 
til rough the gloom, and showed a narrow path¬ 
way through the crags, and, following this, 
Olger presently saw a brilliant glow in front of 
him, which gradually took the shape of a shining 
palace, which none can see by day, but which at 
nightfall glows with unearthly splendor. Its 
walls were of ivory, inlaid with gold and ebony, 
and within its spacious hall was set a most rare 
banquet upon a golden table. But the only in¬ 
habitant of the palace was a fairy horse named 
Papillon, who signed to Olger to seat himself at 
the banquet, and brought him water in a golden 
pitcher for his hands, and served him at table 
while he ate. When he had finished, Papillon 
carried him off to a bed, in the pillars of which 
stood golden candlesticks, wherein wax tapers 
burned the whole night through. 

So Olger slept; but when he awoke next day, 
the fairy palace had vanished in the morning 
light, and he found himself lying in a fair garden, 
where the trees were always green and the 
flowers unfading and the summer never comes 


171 


Olger the Dane 

to an end, where no storm ever darkens the 
sweet, Soft sky, and the chill of sunset is not 
known. For it was a garden in the vale of Ava¬ 
lon, in Fairyland. 

And as he gazed around him, greatly wonder¬ 
ing, there appeared at his side Morgan le Fay, 
Queen of the Fairies, clothed in shining white 
apparel, and said to him : “ Welcome, dear knight, 
to Avalon. Long have I waited and wearied for 
your coming. Now you are mine for ever. The 
ages may roll away, and the world fall to pieces; 
we will dream for ever in this vale, where all 
things are the same.” Then she put an en¬ 
chanted ring on his finger, and immediately 
he became a youth again, beautiful and vigorous. 
And on his head she placed a crown of myrtle 
leaves and laurel, all in gold; and Olger remem¬ 
bered no more his former life, for she had given 
him the Crown of Forgetfulness. 

So Olger sojourned in that fair land; and 
there he met and talked with King Arthur, healed 
now of his mortal wound, and the forms of Sir 
Lancelot and Sir Tristram and many other noble 
knights of the Table Round. 

And so two hundred years passed by like a 
beautiful dream. 


172 Stories of Early England 

Meantime sad events had taken place in the 
land of France. No great leader had arisen 
after Charles the Great, and the land had fallen 
into poverty and shame. Everywhere the Franks 
were beaten back by Paynim and by Saracen, and 
chivalry seemed lost for ever. In vain the people 
cried out for a deliverer ; and at length Morgan 
le Fay heard and pitied them. So she went to 
Olger the Dane, and said to him : 

“ Dear knight, how long have you dwelt here 
with me 

“ It may be a week, a month, or perchance a 
year,” he answered, smiling, for I have lost all 
count of time.” 

Then Morgan le Fay lifted the Crown of For¬ 
getfulness from his brows, and at once his mem¬ 
ory came to him again. 

“ I must go back,” he cried, as though awak¬ 
ing from sleep. “Too long have I tarried here. 
Clarice will be calling for me, and Charles, my 
master, will have summoned Olger in vain. 
Where is my sword, my horse } Now let me go, 
fair queen, but tell me first how long I have dwelt 
here.” 

“ It seems not long to me, dear knight,” said 
she; “but you shall go when you will.” 


173 


Olger the Dane 

Then Morgan le Fay brought to life again his 
dead squire Benoist, and brought out Courtain, 
his good sword, and led forth Papillon for his steed. 
“ Keep safe the ring upon your hand,” said she, 
‘Tor so long as you wear it, youth and vigor shall 
not fail you. And take also this torch, but see 
you light it not, for so long as it remains un¬ 
lighted your life is safe; but, if ever it should 
begin to burn, guard the flame well, for with 
the last spark of the torch shall your days end.” 

She wove, moreover, a spell about them, so that 
they fell into a deep sleep. And when Sir Olger 
awoke, he found himself lying by a fountain, with 
his sword and armor near by, and Benoist hold¬ 
ing Papillon ready for him to mount. Leaping 
on their horses, they rode along till, not far from 
a town, they overtook a horseman. 

“ What city is this, good sir ? ” asked Olger. 

“ Montpellier,” answered the man. 

“ Ah, yes; I had forgotten,” said Olger. 
“Yet I ought to know well enough, for a kins¬ 
man of mine is governor there.” And he 
named the man whom he believed to be the gov¬ 
ernor. 

“ You are strangely in error,” said the horse¬ 
man, “ though I remember now to have heard 


174 Stories of Early England 

there was a ruler of that name two hundred 
years ago. .He was a great,writer of romances, 
and I daresay you know, since you claim him as 
your ancestor, that he wrote the romance of 
Olger the Dane. A good story enough, though, 
of course, no one believes it now, save perhaps 
one man, who often sings it about the city, and 
picks up money from the passers-by.’' Then he 
fell back a few paces, and riding beside Benoist, 
said to him : “ Who is your master ” 

“ Surely you must know him, ” said the squire ; 
“he.is Olger the Dane.” 

“ Rascal! ” cried the stranger, “ you are making 
a jest of me. All men know that Olger the 
Dane perished in shipwreck two hundred years 
ago. That is a fine story indeed ! ” And he 
rode away. 

The knight and his squire pursued their jour¬ 
ney till they came to the market-place of Meaux, 
where they stopped at the door of an inn well 
known to them in former days. 

“ Can we lodge here.? ” asked Olgen. 

“ Certainly you can,” replied the innkeeper. 

“ Then fetch the landlord to speak with me. ” 

“ Sir, ” said the man, “ I am the landlord.” 

“Nay, nay,” said Olger; “I wish to see 


Olger the Dane 175 

Hubert the Neapolitan, the landlord of this 
house. ” 

The man gave him one look, and then, taking 
him for a madman, bolted the door in his face, 
and, rushing to an upper window, cried : “ Seize 
that horseman for a madman. He asks to see 
Hubert, my grandfather’s grandfather, who has 
been dead two hundred years. Send for the 
Abbot of St. Faron, that he may drive out, the 
evil spirit from him.” 

Then a crowd began to gather, and stones and 
darts were hurled at the knight and his man, 
and in,the scuffle that followed Benoist was shot 
dead by a,n archer. And when Sir Olger saw 
that, he was filled with the fiercest wrath,, and 
rode Tapillon at the crowd, and scattered them, 
cutting down with his sword all who came within 
reach. But so hotly burnt his wrath that it 
kindled the torch that he carried in his breast, 
so he rode away with it to the Abbey of St. 
Faron. There the Abbot met him, to whom 
Olger said : “ Is your name Simon ? You at 
least should know me, seeing that I founded 
this abbey and endowed it with lands and 
money.” But the Abbot answered that he knew 
little of those who had preceded him, and asked 


176 Stories of Early England 

the stranger’s name. And when he heard it he 
was greatly puzzled, and said to himself : “ I do 

remember me that the charters of the house 
say that Simon was Abbot in the days of the 
founder, Olger the Dane; yet what does all this 
mean ? ” And aloud he said : “ Sir Knight, the 
Abbot Simon has been buried for nigh two hun¬ 
dred years.” 

“What!” cried the knight. “Simon dead! 
And Charles the Great and Caraheu and Clar¬ 
ice, my wife ? Where are they ? Not dead too ? 
Oh, say they are not dead! ” 

“ Dead—dead two hundred years ago, my son,” 
said the Abbot solemnly. Then Sir Olger was 
filled with awe and wonder, as he begaff tO 
realize that his dream of Avalon was true after 
all. Following the Abbot into the church he 
told his strange story; and the Abbot believed 
him, and rejoiced to think that a deliverer had 
been sent to France at last. Then Olger told 
him the secret of the torch, and begged him to 
make an iron treasure-house beneath the church, 
wherein so little air could come that the flame 
might dwindle to a single spark, and yet be 
nourished and preserved for many years to come. 
And when this was done, and the torch was 


177 


Olger the Dane 

safely disposed of, the Abbot begged to see the 
magic ring. But when Olger heedlessly drew 
it from his finger, immediately his youth and 
vigor vanished, and he became a helpless old 
man, whose skin hung loose like withered parch¬ 
ment, and whose only sign of life was the quiver¬ 
ing of his toothless jaws. The terrified Abbot 
hastily put back the ring on the fleshless finger, 
and immediately his strength and youth re¬ 
turned, and he rode off on Papillon to fight for 
France. The enemy was then stationed before 
Chartres, and so strong they were that the Franks 
were falling back disheartened before them, when 
suddenly, just as in former days, a gigantic knight 
riding a coal-black horse appeared in their midst, 
and everywhere he rode was marked by a long 
line of slain. Then the astonished Franks re¬ 
membered the stories they had heard in the days 
of old, and murmured to one another: ‘‘ It is 
Olger the Dane! ” One after the other passed 
it on, till the murmur grew to a cry, and the cry 
to a shout of Olger ! Olger the Dane! ” and, 
rushing upon the foe, they swept the paynims 
from the field. Over and over again did Olger 
thus lead the Franks to victory, until at length the 
land was free. And always while he fought the 
L 


178 Stories of Early England 

torch burnt bright in the Church of St. Faron, 
but when he rested it dwindled to a spark again. 

At length the renowned and glorious knight 
had leisure to visit the French Court. He 
found that the King of France had lately died, 
but the Queen received him with all kindness ; 
and her waiting-maid, the Lady of Senlis, loved 
him so much that she would gladly have wedded 
him, but he would have nothing to do with her. 
Now, one day these ladies discovered the secret 
of the magic ring; for, finding him one day 
asleep upon a couch after a long journey, they 
drew the ring from his finger, meaning to jest 
with him about it when he awoke. Much to their 
horror, the strong man withered up before their 
eyes, and became an ancient skeleton. Then the 
'vQueen, knowing from this that it was truly Olger 
the Dane, immediately replaced the ring, and he 
regained his former youth. But the Lady of 
Senlis, determined that since Olger did not care 
for her, he should love no one else, sent thirty 
strong knights to waylay him as he left the 
Court, and to wrest the ring of Morgan le Fay 
from his hand. But Sir Olger spurred Papillon 
among them, with Courtain drawn in his hand, 
and SO escaped untouched. After this the Queen 


179 


Olger die Dane 

herself wished to marry Olger, for she said : 
“ He, and he alone, is worthy to sit upon the 
throne of Charles the Great. ’ And to this 
Olger agreed, for he felt to sit in his master’s 
seat was the highest earthly honor he could win. 
So with great pomp and ceremony they prepared 
for the wedding. The great church blazed with 
golden banners as a lordly procession entered 
and proclaimed the approaching coronation of 
the new-made King; and Sir Olger took the 
Queen by the hand, and led her forward, and 
knelt with her upon the chancel pavement. But 
ere the marriage vows were spoken, a brighter 
light than any on earth shone upon them, and 
all at once a thick white cloud wrapped round 
the knight. Some say that Morgan le Fay was 
seen floating down through the cloud, with arms 
outstretched, to carry off her knight. However 
that may be, when the cloud had cleared away, 
Sir Olger was no more to be seen upon this 
earth. But men whisper that Olger the Dane 
lives yet, for the torch still burns in the treasure 
house of the Abbey of St. Faron. He is only 
asleep in the faery islands of Avalon, and one 
day he will awaken, and return again, return to 
deliver France once more in time of need, when 


180 Stories of Early England 

the Franks shall turn, and conquer their foes, 
with their ancient battle-cry of “ Olger!. Olger 
the Dane ! ” 

From the Anglo-Norman Romance of Charlemagne, about 
the twelfth century, but undoubtedly borrowed fro7n a 
Celtic source, since the whole spirit of the tale is Celtic m 
origin. 


THE STORY OF KING FORTAGER 


C ONST AUNCE, King of Britain, was a 
mighty man of valor, and in his day 
the people were freed from their en¬ 
emies ; but when he died, his eldest son, Moyne 
the Monk, who had lived all his days in the Ab¬ 
bey of Winchester, sat upon the throne. Now 
when Angys the Dane saw King Moyne to be 
but a studious youth, hating the thought of war¬ 
fare, he gathered an army together, and sailed 
for Britain. 

Then was there great terror in the land; and 
King Moyne gave orders to Fortager, his fa¬ 
ther’s steward, that he should put himself at the 
head of the Britons, and fight against Angys. 
But Fortager pretended to be very sick, so that 
he could not go forth to battle. Then King 
Moyne was obliged to go himself, and so badly 
did he conduct the fight that the Britains were 
defeated. And Angys took many British towns 
and castles, and fortified them against their for¬ 
mer owners. Now, there had fought under King 
i8i 



182 Stories of Early England 

Moyne twelve British chieftains who were very 
ill content with the state of affairs. They came 
together, and said; If Fortager had been our 
leader this would not have happened so.” Then 
they went to Fortager to ask his counsel. But 
Fortager would only say : Seek counsel of 
your King; it will be time enough to ask for 
mine when Moyne is King no longer.” 

On hearing these words, the twelve chieftains 
went straightway to King Moyne, and slew him 
as he sat at meat within his hall ; after which 
they returned to Fortager, and greeted him as 
King. But there were many who yet loved the 
race of good King Constaunce, and some of the 
barons took his two young sons, A urilis-Brosias 
and Uther-Pendragon, the brothers of King 
Moyne, and sent them away to Brittany, lest 
they too should be slain. 

Meantime Fortager had called together a great 
army, and had fought with Angys and driven him 
from the land; and he would have killed the 
Dane as he prepared to flee, had not Angys 
begged for mercy and promised to make war no 
more on Britain. 

So Angys sailed away with his host, and 
Fortager marched in triumph to the capital. 


The Story of King Fortager 183 

And while he was feasting in the palace, the 
twelve chieftains who had slain King Moyne 
came to him, and said : “ O King, remember it 
was we who made you King and placed you here 
on high ; give us now a reward/’ And Fortager 
answered : Now that I am King I will indeed 
give a meet reward for traitors.” And, having 
ordered wild horses to be brought in, he watched 
them tear the traitors limb from limb upon his 
castle pavement. Now, by this deed Fortager 
roused the wrath of all who had helped him to 
his throne, and many spoke of bringing back 
Aurilis-Brosias and Uther-Pendragon to the land. 
And Fortager was hunted through the kingdom, 
and sorely beaten, so that he scarce escaped with 
his life. 

At length he.determined to send for help to 
King Angys, which he forthwith did, promising 
him half the kingdom if he would come to his 
aid. So Angys returned again with many men 
and ships, and by his aid Britain was subdued by 
force of arms. But though the war ceased there 
was no peace in the land ; and Fortager went 
about in deadly fear, first of the Britons whom 
he had betrayed, and next of Angys, lest with 
his powerful host he should seize the whole king- 


184 Stories of Early England 

dom. And lastly, he feared that the men of 
Brittany would come over and fight for Aurilis- 
Brosias and Uther-Pendragon, and bring them 
back to their father’s throne. 

So he determined to build a strong castle, 
made of well-hewn stone and timber—an impreg¬ 
nable fortress with lofty towers and battlements, 
a deep moat and heavy drawbridge—such as had 
never been seen for strength in the world before; 
and he decided to rear it on Salisbury Plain, and 
so be surrounded by wastes of land, and far from 
his foes. At daybreak three thousand men be¬ 
gan the work—hewers of wood and carpenters 
and masons and cunning workers in stone. The 
foundations were laid deep, on vast blocks of 
stone clamped with iron ; and by nightfall the wall 
had risen breast-high. But when they came to 
their work next morning, they found to their dis¬ 
may that the ground was scattered with the 
stones they had built up, and that all they had 
done was destroyed. That day they built it up 
again, laying the foundations deeper than before, 
and clamping each stone to the next with iron. 
But when they came next morning all was over¬ 
thrown as before. 

Then Fortager called together ten wise men, 


The Story of King Fortager 185 

and shut them in a tower, open to the sky, that 
they might read the stars, and find out why these 
things should be. And after nine days the wise 
men came to him, and said : 

“ Sire, we read in the stars that an elf child has 
been born in Britain, knowing things past and 
things to come. Find the child, and slay him on 
this plain, and mix the mortar with his blood, 
and so shall the wall stand fast.” So Fortager 
sent men forth to journey far and wide till they 
should find the child, and after wandering for 
many days and weeks, one party of messengers 
came to a certain town, and found some children 
quarrelling in the market-place at their games. 

** Thou son of a black elf,” they heard one say, 
** we will not play with thee, for we know not 
who thou art.” The messengers gazed hard at 
the five-year-old child thus addressed; and im¬ 
mediately the boy^who was called Merlin, ran up 
to them, and said : Welcome, O messengers, 
and behold him whom you seek. But think not, 
for all men may say, that my blood will ever 
mak^ firm the castle walls of Fortager; for his 
wise men who try to read the stars are but blind, 
and they blunder past what lies at their very 
feet.” 


186 Stories of Early England 

Then the men wondered greatly, and said: 

How didst thou know of our errand ? ” 

And Merlin answered “ I can see as it were 
pictures of all that is and all that shall be. I 
will go with you to Fortager, and show what 
hinders building up his fortress on the Plain.” 

So he mounted a pony, and followed after the 
men on horseback. 

And as they journeyed through a town, they 
saw a man buying strong new shoes and leather 
wherewith to mend them when they wore out; 
and Merlin laughed to himself. 

“ Why do you laugh ? ” asked the messengers. 

“ Because he will never wear the shoes,” re¬ 
plied the boy. And so it d^me to pass, for the 
man fell dead at his door as he carried home the 
shoes. 

And next day Merlin laughed again, and, being 
asked why, said : ‘‘King Fortager is jealous be¬ 
cause, his Queen’s chamberlain is better looking 
than he, and he threatens to take his life, know¬ 
ing not that the handsome fellow is but a woman 
in disguise.” 

And when they came to the palace, they found 
that it was just as the boy had said, so the cham¬ 
berlain’s life was spared. Then Fortager- mar- 


The Story of King Fortager 187 

veiled greatly at the wisdom of this child of five 
years, and begged him to reveal the mystery of 
his castle wall. And Merlin said : ‘‘ The fiends 
have deceived your wise men by showing false 
signs among the stars ; for my kindred of the air 
are very wroth because I have been baptized into 
Christendom, and they seek to destroy my life. 
But if you send your men to dig a yard beneath 
the wall’s foundation, they will there find a 
stream of water running over two mighty stones, 
under which live two dragons. Each night at 
sundown these dragons wake, and do battle, so 
that the earth is shaken, and the wall falls down.” 

Then Fortager set his men to dig beneath the 
foundations as Merlin had said; and presently 
they came to a fast and furious stream, which 
they turned off by making another channel. 
And in the river-bed were two huge stones, 
which it took many men to heave up, and there 
beneath them lay the dragons. One was as red 
as fire, and his body a rood in length, with eyes 
that gleamed like red-hot coal?, and a strong and 
supple tail. The other was milk-white, and very 
grim of look ; he had two heads, and darted out 
white fire from his jaws.^ And at sight of them, 
as they awoke from slumber, all save Merlin fled 


188 Stories of Early England 

in panic. Then the dragons arose, and began to 
fight. And soon the air was full of the fiery 
breath from their throats, so that it was like 
lightning on the earth, and the whole land shook 
with their noise and fury. All that long sum¬ 
mer night they fought with tooth and nail and 
claw, and fell and rose, and fell and rose again, 
till the day dawned. And by that time the red 
dragon had driven the white into a valley, where 
for a while the latter stood at bay ; but at length, 
recovering himself, he forced the red dragon' 
back into the pjain again, and, fixing his claws in 
his throat, tore him to pieces, and with his fiery 
flame scorched him up to a heap of ashes on the 
plain. Then the white dragon flew away into 
the air. 

From that time Merlin became a great favorite 
of King Fortager, and counselled him in all 
things. And now, when the masons began to 
build, the wall no longer fell down as before, 
and in course of time a fair white castle arose 
upon the plain, stronger and mightier than any 
that the world had ever seen. 

Then Fortager sent for Merlin, and asked what 
the battle of the dragons really meant, and if it 
betokened things that should yet come to pass. 


The Story of King Fortager 189 

But the boy would answer nothing. Then in his 
anger King Fortager threatened to slay him ; but 
Merlin only laughed in scorn, saying : “ You will 
never see my death-day. Strike if you will, and 
bind me fast, but you will only fight the air.” 

Then Fortager began to entreat him humbly, 
and swore that no harm should come to him 
whatever he should say. And at length Merlin 
told him that the red dragon betokened Fortager 
and the power he had obtained through killing 
King Moyne. The white dragon with the two 
heads represented the true heirs,^Aurilis-Brosias 
and Uther-Pendragon, whose kingdom he held, 
and as the white dragon, hunted to the valley, 
there regained his breath, and drove back the 
red dragon to the plain, so should these heirs, 
driven out to Brittany, find help and succor 
there, and were even now sailing to Britain with 
a vast army to hunt King Fortager through the 
land, and to drive him to his castle on the Plain. 
And there, while he was shut up, with his wife 
and children, he should be burnt to ashes. 

Then King Fortager, when he heard this, was 
grieved at heart, and prayed Merlin to tell him how 
to avoid this terrible fate, or at least how he might 
escape with his life. But Merlin only answered: 


190 Stories of Early England 

“ What will be, will be.” 

Then Fortager, in his wrath, tried to seize the 
boy; but Merlin vanished from his sight, and 
while they sought him, he was all the time 
far away in the cell of Blaise the hermit. And 
there he remained for many a year, and wrote a 
book concerning all the things that were going 
to happen in Britain. 

Meantime all that he had foretold took place. 
For Uther-Pendragon and his brother marched 
to Winchester with an army, and when the citi¬ 
zens saw the banner of their old British kings, 
they drove out the Danish garrison, and opened 
the gates to the sons of Constaunce. And not 
one of the men of Britain would fight on the 
side of Fortager or Angys, nor would the mem 
of their armies fight against their friends and 
brothers in the land. So they won an easy vic¬ 
tory, and drove Fortager away to his fortress on 
Salisbury Plain, where he shut himself up with 
his wife and children. And the men of Britain 
threw wildfire on the walls, and burnt him there, 
and all that belonged to him, and made his 
castle walls level with the ground. 

But Angys fled away to a fortress on a hill, 
whither Uther-Pendragon followed, but could not 


The Story of King Fortager 191 

come to him because of the strong bulwarks by 
which it was surrounded. 

Then hearing men speak often of the wisdom 
of Merlin, Ut her-Pen dragon sent men far and 
wide to seek him. And one day, when these 
messengers sat at dinner, there came in to them 
an old beggar, with a snow-white beard and rag¬ 
ged shoes and a staff in his hand, and said: 
“Ye are wise messengers who seek the child 
Merlin ! Often to-day have ye passed him on 
the road, and yet ye knew him not. Go back to 
Uther, and tell him that Merlin waits in the wood 
hard by; for, search as ye will, ye will never 
find him.” 

And with these words the old man disappeared. 
Then the messengers, wondering greatly, re¬ 
turned, and told all to Uther, who left his 
brother to maintain the siege, and went to the 
wood to seek Merlin. And first he met a swine¬ 
herd, who said he had lately seen the elf child, 
and then a chapman with his pack, who said the 
same. Then came a countryman, who said that 
Merlin would surely keep his tryst, but that 
Uther must be patient, as he still had some work 
to do ere he sought the palace. 

So the prince waited patiently far into the 


192 Stories of Early England 

night; and at length the countryman returned to^ 
him, saying : “ I am Merlin, and I will now go 
with you to the camp.” 

When they got there Aurilis-Brosias came out 
to meet them, and said : “ Brother, there came 
a countryman in the night, who waked me, say¬ 
ing : ‘ Angys is come out of his fortress, and 

has stolen past your sentinels, and is in your 
camp, seeking to take your life.’ So I sprang 
up, and, seeing Angys at the door, I rushed upon 
him, and slew him, my sword passing through 
his coat of mail as if it had been naught. But 
when all was over, the countryman had van¬ 
ished.” 

Then Uther answered : Brother, here is the 
countryman, and he is Merlin.” Then were 
the princes much rejoiced, and thanked Merlin 
for his timely aid. And in the morning the 
Danes and Saxons yielded up their citadel, and 
asked leave to sail away to their own land. 

So the country was once more free; and the 
Britons took Uther-Pendragon, the elder of the 
brothers, and crowned him King at Winches¬ 
ter. 

For seven long years he reigned and pros¬ 
pered; and Merlin was counsellor not only to* 


The Story of King Fortager 193 

him, but to his son, the great King Arthur, after 
him. 

Among the deeds which were performed by 
the magician to please the King, it is told: 

“ How Merlin, by his skill, and magic’s wondrous might, 
From Ireland hither brought the Stonendge in a night.” 

Drayton. 

And many of these stones may still be seen 
standing upon Salisbury Plain. 

Frotn the Romance of Merlin, Thirteenth or fourteenth 
century. 

M 


THE STORY OF RICHARD LION 
HEART 

T his story is about that same King 
Richard I. of whom you read in his¬ 
tory. But it is really a “ story," not 
an account of things that actually happened to 
him. You see, English people liked him so 
much that after he was dead they were not con¬ 
tent merely to remember the deeds he had act¬ 
ually done, but made up many new ones, which 
they told in their songs and stories ; and this is 
about some of them. 

Soon after young King Richard first came to 
the throne, he wanted to find out who were the 
bravest knights in his dominions. So he pre¬ 
pared three disguises for himself, in which 
he might appear as a “ knight adventurer," and 
summoned all his followers to a great tourna¬ 
ment. On the day appointed, when all was 
ready, and everyone awaited only the King, 
a strange knight, dressed in black, riding a black 
horse, and wearing on his helmet a raven with a 
194 


Story of Richard Lion Heart 195 . 

bell hung round its neck, galloped into the lists, 
and shouted his challenge. No one was anxious 
to take it up ; for the stranger’s spear was four¬ 
teen feet long and twenty-one inches round, and 
they feared what might be the strength of him , 
who wielded it. At length a knight rode forth. 
to meet him, and was instantly unhorsed ; another 
followed, and was killed by the violence of the 
onset; a third barely escaped with his life. No ^ 
other ventured forward; and the Knight of the 
Raven, after waiting a while, set spurs to his horse 
plunged into the forest, and disappeared. 

Afte»* a short time another knight rode out of 
the forest on a bay horse. He wore a suit 
of red armor, and on his; helmet’s crest was 
a red hound. This Knight of the Red Dog rode 
into the midst of the throng, and, handing his 
spear to his squire, took his mace, and, riding 
up to Sir Thomas de Multon, the most renowned 
knight in England, struck him a mighty blow. 
Sir Thomas, however, was not at all dismayed at 
this sudden onset, and merely suggested that his 
adversary should go and amuse himself else¬ 
where. The stranger’s reply was a second and 
still more violent blow which nearly crushed his 
helmet; whereupon. Sir Thomas turned upon . 


196 Stories of Early England 

him, and* thrust with such vigor that the Knight 
of the Red Dog lost his stirrups, and recovering 
them with difficulty, rode off into the forest. 

Presently another knight rode forth, wearing 
white armor, with a dove for his crest, and riding 
a snow-white hors^ Innding no man disposed 
to take up his challenge, he rode round the ring 
till he caught sight of Sir Fulk Doyley, a very 
worthy antagonist, and at once aimed at him 
a furious blow. Sir Fulk received it quite 
calmly, with only a warning not to repeat the 
offence; but when a second fell, he struck 
the Knight of the Dove with such strength thait 
the latter lost both stirrup and saddle, and 
was carried away almost' senseless to the palace. 

When the tournament was over the King 
summoned Sir Fulk and Sir Thomas, and asked 
who had acquitted himself best of all the com¬ 
batants. Both agreed that the honors of the 
day belonged to the unknown knights in black, 
red, and white armor, though each complained of 
the unsuspected attack and hasty retreat of their 
mysterious adversaries. Then Richard gave a 
great laugh, and told them that he himself 
had been each of the knights in turn, and that 
he had acted as he did to try the courage 


Story of Richard Lion Heart 197 

of these two, in order that if they stood the test 
they might be his companions in a pilgrimage he 
proposed to undertake to the Holy Land. 

He then proposed that they should disguise 
themselves as pilgrims; and, having taken the 
oath of secrecy and of loyalty to one another, 
they set out together for Palestine. Having ac¬ 
complished their pilgrimage successfully, they set 
their faces towards their native land, and passed 
on their way through Germany, where they met 
with an unfortunate adventure. They had been 
for many hours without food, when they came to 
an inn, the keeper of which was too busy to at¬ 
tend to them. He bade them enter, however, 
and, having killed a good fat goose, told them to 
cook it themselves. Wishing nothing better, the 
supposed pilgrims set to work with joy. King 
Richard blew up the fire. Sir Thomas set the 
goose oh the spit. Sir Fulk fetched in fresh fire¬ 
wood. The goose was done to a turn, and they 
were just about to enjoy it, when a minstrel maid 
entered, and said : “ Gentlemen, will ye have any 
minstrelsy ? ” Hungry and tired, they bade her 
go away, and when she begged for food they 
would not hear. 

So the girl turned at the door, saying: ** Ye 


198 Stories of Early England 

unkind men, one day you will remember that you 
gave the minstrel neither food nor drink.” And 
with a threatening look she departed. They 
were not very happy at these words; for they 
saw by her look and speech that she was English, 
and they feared to be recognized in this hostile 
land. What they dreaded soon came to pass. 
The minstrel had gone at once to the King of 
that country and had betrayed the real rank of 
the pilgrims; and the King, in wrath that they 
should have entered his domains without leave, 
and, as he thought, with treasonable intent, threw 
them into a deep dungeon. 

Now, this King had a son named Ardour who 
was very proud of his strength. When this 
young man heard that the famous King Richard 
of England was in prison, he ordered him to be 
brought forth, and asked him if he would stand 
a buffet from his hand on condition that Richard 
was allowed to return it. Richard promptly 
agreed, and, weak from hunger as he was, reeled 
under the prince’s blow. But he was so ashamed 
of his weakness that he quickly recovered, and, 
pointing out the fact that he had had no food for 
two days, asked leave to put off the return blow 
till the next day. Ardour consented, and sejit 


Story of Richard Lion Heart 199 

him in a plentiful meal. Next day they met 
again ; but the young prince’s endurance was not 
equal to his courage, for Richard’s blow killed 
him on the spot. 

When the King his father heard this, he was 
beside himself with anger and grief, and desired 
above all things to put Richard to death. But 
his councillors reminded him that it was aghinst 
the law of Europe to kill a King except in fair 
fight, and there seemed no way out of the matter. 
At length one of them suggested that a very 
large and ferocious lion belonging to the royal 
menagerie should be kept some days without 
food, and then let lopse in the royal prisoner’s 
cell. This arrangement would satisfy the King’s 
desire for revenge, while shielding him from re¬ 
sponsibility for the crime. 

Now, the Princess Margery, daughter of the' 
King, heard of this plan, and, moved with pity 
for the unfortunate Englishman, she visited him 
in the prison, and warned him of what was to 
happen. Richard took the matter very calmly, 
however, and only asked her to provide him with 
forty handkerchiefs of white silk. These he 
bound round his arms to protect them from the 
beast’s claws, and calmly awaited the arrival of 


200 Stories of Early England 

the lion. It was brought in by two keepers, and, 
being loosed, at once made a dash for its prey; 
but Richard gave it such a blow on the chest that 
it nearly fell to the ground. Lashing its tail with 
fury, the lion gave a terrific roar, and sprang 
upon him. Then the King seized him by his 
open jaws, and, like Samson of old, tore him 
asunder, so that he fell dead to the ground. 
When the King of that land was told this, he was 
filled with astonishment, and said : This fellow 
has the heart of a lion in place of that of a man! ” 
And from that time Richard was surnamed Lion 
Heart. It was not long before the King, glad to 
be rid of such a terrible prisoner, accepted a 
large ransom, and sent him back to England. 


About the end of the thirteenth century. 


THE STORY OF HAVELOK THE 
DANE 


I. THE EARLY ADVENTURES OF HAVELOK 
AND GOLDBOROUGH 

T here once lived a King in England 
whose name was Athelwold. So good 
a King was he, that in his days a man 
might*travel all over the land with a bag of gold 
without being robbed or ill treated. He was 
good to the widows and a counsellor to the father¬ 
less ; but to all wicked people he was stern and 
severe, and punished them hardly for their evil 
deeds. 


“He was the truest man at need 
That ever rode on any steed.” 

Now, this good King had one little daughter, 
and no other child to succeed him; and when 
sickness came upon him, and the time to die 
drew near, he became very anxious about this 
little girl, who was too young to walk or speak, 
201 


202 Stories of Early England 

and whom he must soon leave without a protector. 
So he summoned a great meeting of all his 
barons^ and they all wept, and were very sad, to 
see him so near his end. He bade them dry 
their tears, however, saying that weeping would 
do no good ; rather should they be thinking how 
best they might protect his little daughter, who 
should be their Lady after his death, until 
she grew up. 

Then after long thought he chose out Earl 
Godrich of Cornwall, who, he said, was a true 
and wise man, and one of whom men stood 
in awe, and to him he gave the charge of 
the little Princess Goldborough. But first the 
Earl was made to swear most solemnly that 
he would look after her well, and see that, 
no harm came to her, till she was twelve years 
old; that he would teach her how to act cour¬ 
teously towards everyone; and, when she was old 
enough, that he would marry her to the best and 
fairest and strongest man of all the land. 

When the Earl had so sworn, the King had 
the little maiden brought in, and delivered 
her to the Earl, together with all the land over 
which he held rule in England, praying that he 
would take good care of both child and dominions. 


Story of Havelok the Dane 203 

Then the King died, and was. buried amidst 
much grief and sorrow. After he was dead, 
Earl Godrich soon began to rule the land 
with an iron hand. He gave castles only to such 
knights as he knew would support him, and 
forced the English to keep good faith with him, 
so that all the land stood in awe of him. But of 
Goldborough, the rightful heir, he took little 
heed; and so the years went on until she 
was twenty years of age. 

Then one day it came to pass that Earl 
Godrich heard the fame of this Princess: how 
beautiful she was, how wise and thoughtful, and 
how many of the people wept in secret for 
her, knowing that she ought to be Queen. 

Then Godrich wprked himself in a rage, and 
said : “ Shall this girl indeed be Queen and Lady 
over me ? Shall she have all England and 
me and mine under her control.? A curse on 
whomsoever would have it so! Shall I allow 
a silly girl, no better than a servant maid, to 
rule over all England just because she wants itl 
Not I, indeed! She is become too proud, owing 
to her good food and rich dress. I have brought 
her up too softly, too kindly. It shall not be as 
she thinks. ‘ Hope often tricks a foolish man,’ 


204 Stories of Early England 

says the proverb. I have a son, a handsome 
boy; he shall be Lord and King over this land.” 

So, forgetful of his oath, he sent his young 
ward from her home at Winchester away to 
Dover, where he shut her up in a strongly 
guarded castle, and gave her poor and shabby 
clothes to wear and wretched food to eat. And 
there we must leave Goldborough for the present, 
weeping bitterly over her sad lot. 

Now, in those days there lived in Denmark a 
certain King named Birkabeyn. A brave man 
was he, and the best knight who ever rode 
a steed or handled a spear. Three children had 
he—a son and two fair daughters—whom he 
loved as dearly as his own life; but while 
they were still very young, he was smitten with 
a sore disease, and knew that he must soon die. 
He called to him, therefore, his own friend, 
Godard, and gave the three children into his 
charge until the time should come when his son 
should be old enough to wear a helmet, hold 
a spear, and be acknowledged King of Denmark. 

Then Godard swore a mighty oath to give his 
best care to these young children; and very 
soon afterwards the good King died. No sooner 
was he laid in the grave than Godard seized the 


Story of Havelok the Dane 205 

babes, Havelok the heir to the throne, and 
his sisters, Swanborough and Elfled the Fair, 
and shut them up in a gloomy castle, where 
no one could visit them, for it was all barred and 
bolted. 

There they wept often very sorely both for 
hunger and for cold, for their guardian gave them 
but few clothes and very scanty food. Then 
this wicked man took all their land for himself, 
and forced the people to swear fealty to him; 
and, furthermore, he determined to do a yet 
more cruel deed, lest the children should trouble 
hiiTi in the future. 

When he had decided upon his plan, he betook 
himself to the tower in which the little ones were 
imprisoned, where he found them weeping for 
cold and hunger. 

He sat down, and the boy, a fearless little fel¬ 
low, came up to him, and sat upon his knee. 

Why do you cry and sob so ” asked Godard. 

And Havelok answered : “ We cry because we 
are so hungry. We always want more food than 
we can get, ,and to-day we have nothing to eat 
and no . servant to give us anything to drink. 
Woe to us that we were born ! Is there nowa¬ 
days no corn in the land that might be made into 


206 Stories of Early England 

bread for us ? See, we are nearly dead with hun¬ 
ger.” 

To all this Godard listened without caring in 
the least, and, turning to the two little girls, both 
worn and thin from starvation, he pretended to 
have a game with them, but when he had per¬ 
suaded them to come near him he seized them, 
and killed them, and threw them dead upon the 
floor. 

The poor little brother stood by, and when 
he saw this dreadful deed he shook with terror, 
and, kneeling before the wicked Godard, cried : 

Have mercy on me, and I will give you all 
Denmark if you will spare my life. I will swear 
never to do aught to harm you, and if you will 
be merciful I will flee from Denmark this day, 
and never more return—and I will swear that 
Birkabeyn was not my father.” 

When he heard that, the wicked Godard held 
back the knife with which he had been about to 
slay him for, though he wished him dead, he did 
not want to kill him with his own hand. He 
stood hesitating, therefore, saying to himself: 
“ If I let him go he may do me some wrong; if 
I have mercy on him he may wait a while, and 
then slay me; but if he were dead, and my chil- 


Story of Havelok the Dane 207 

dren should grow up, they would be rulers of all 
Denmark after me. He had better die, there¬ 
fore ; so I will forthwith throw him into the sea, 
and that he may not float, I will bind a heavy 
weight about his neck.” 

So he sent for a fisherman whom he knew he 
could trust, and said : ‘‘ Grim, you know that 
you are my servant and slave, but if you now do 
all that I bid you, to-morrow you shall be free, 
and also a rich man into the bargain. Take now 
this child, and when the moon rises, throw him 
into the sea. I will take the responsibility of the 
deed.” 

Then Grim the fisherman took the boy and 
tied him hand and foot with strong rope, so that 
he could not move a limb, and when he had 
wrapped him in an old cloth, so that he could 
neither speak nor see where he was being taken, 
he threw Havelok into a great black bag, which 
he put over his shoulders, and went off to his 
house. There he met his wife. Levy, and said 
to her : % Do you know that this boy, whom I am 
about to drown in the sea, will be the cause of 
our freedom ; and not only shall we be free, but 
money too has been promised by my Lord.” 

When Dame Levy heard that she started up, 


208 Stories of Early England 

and caught the sack, and threw the boy out so 
roughly that he cracked his head against a great 
stone, against which he lay half stunned. Well 
indeed might he now say : # Well-a-day, that 
ever I was born a King’s son ! ” 

Until the middle of the night the child lay 
there, at which time Grim bade his wife bring a 
light, that he might put on hi§ clothes, and go 
and drown the boy. “Make haste,” said he; 
“blow up the fire and light a candle. Would 
you hinder me from doing what I have promised 
to my Lord ” 

As his wife rose up to blow the fire and to 
get his clothes, she saw in the dark room a bright 
light shining on the face of the boy, and touch¬ 
ing his mouth like a sunbeam—and the light was 
as strong as if three candles were burning in the 
room. “ What is this light in our cottage } ” 
cried the astonished dame. “ Rise up, Grim, 
and see what it all means! ” 

Approaching Havelok in fear and trembling, 
they ungagged him and undid the ropes; then, 
turning down his shirt, they found a mark that 
showed he was of royal blood, clear and plain 
upon him. 

“ Why,’Scried Grim, “ this must surely be the 


Story of Havelok the Dane 209 

heir of Denmark of whom we have heard! 
And, indeed, he shall be King, and shall hold 
both Denmark and England in his hand; and 
to Godard shall he bring great woe ! ” 

Then, falling on his knees before the child, he 
said : “ Lord, have mercy on me and on Levy, 

my wife. Lord, we are both your servants, and 
Godard shall never know what has become of 
you. Then one day, when you are old enough 
to ride a horse and wear a helmet, shall we be 
rewarded, for we will never take our freedom 
from any man save from you.” 

Very joyful was Havelok when he heard this ; 
but fir^t he sat up, and asked for bread, saying: 

Now am I nearly dead from hunger and from 
these bonds which you put upon me, and I have 
been well-nigh strangled with the gag which 
you thrust in my mouth.” 

Then cried Levy : “ Indeed you shall be fed 

with bread and cheese, butter and milk, pasties 
and pancakes—all that we have shall be yours in 
your sore need, my Lord. True, true is the saying 
that one often hears : * Him whom God wills to 
help shall nothing hurt.’ ” 

Then Havelok made a joyous meal. A whole 
loaf did he eat and more, for it was three days 

N 


210 Stories of Early England 

since he had had any food. When he was well 
satisfied, Grim made him up a comfortable bed, 
undressed him, and laid him therein, saying: 

Sleep, little son, and be happy in- thy dreams. 
Be feared of naught, for now art thou brought 
from sorrow unto joy.” 

II. HOW HAVELOK BECAME THE SERVANT OF 
THE earl’s cook 

When the morning had come, Grim took his 
way to the house of the traitor Godard, and said 
to him : “ Lord, I have done all that you bade 

me do to the boy. He is drowned in the sea, 
with a heavy weight about his neck. Now, 
therefore, give me gold and the charter of my 
freedom, as you promised. 

Then Godard stood, and looked at him with 
evil eyes, and said : “ Is it that you wish to be 

an Earl indeed } Get home quickly, you foolish 
fellow, and be a servant to your life’s end, for all 
I care. You shall have no other reward but to 
be saved from the gallows, and there will I soon 
see you for your wicked deed, if you stay here 
any longer ” 

Then Grim went hastily away, saying to .him- 


Story of Havelok the Dane 211 

self : “ What shall I do ? If he knows that the 

child yet lives, he will hang us both upon the 
gallows-tree. Better would it be for us, with 
our children, to flee from this land altogether.” 

Forthwith Grim began to sell his corn, his 
sheep with their wool, his fisher’s net and horn, 
his horse and pigs and goat, and his geese 
and hens. All these he turned into money. 
Then he prepared his little ship, tarred and 
pitched it, so that it was quite sound, and made 
for it a strong mast, and good cables, oars, 
and sails, so that not so much as a nail was 
wanting in it. Then he placed in it the little 
Havelok, with his wife, his three sons, and two 
daughters, and soon was sailing on the high seas. 
When he was scarcely a mile from the shore 
a great wind from the north began to blow, and 
drove them to the English coast—to that very 
England which was to belong to Havelok in 
future days. But before that time came, he had 
to endure much shame and sorrow and pain, as 
you shall presently hear. 

It was in the Humber that Grim landed— 
at Lindsey, right up on the northern side. The 
ship ran aground, and Grim drew it up well 
on the land ; and there he made a little house 


212 Stories of Early England 

for him and his and for his crew, and built it of 
mud, and harbored therein. And because Grim 
was the first to own that place, it received from 
him the name of Grimsby, which all men call it 
to this day. 

Grim was an excellent fisherman, and many 
good fish he caught both with net and with 
hook—such as sturgeon and whales, turbot 
and salmon, seals, and also eels; with cod and 
porpoises; herring and mackerel, plaice and 
thornbacks. To carry these he made strong 
baskets for himself and his three sons, and sold 
them so successfully in the neighboring village 
that he never came home empty-handed; but 
when he had a catch of the larger lampreys, he 
would go all the way to the town of Lincoln, 
where he found a ready sale for them. And 
from thence he would return with his bag full of 
fine bread, called “wastels,” and horn-shaped 
cakes called “simnels,” with plenty of fresh meat, 
corn and meal, and hemp to make good lines, and, 
rope to make strong nets. 

So Grim worked hard for his young family 
for some twelve years and more, till Havelok 
one day became ashamed that the fisherman 
should toil, while he lay at home. And he 


Story of Havelok the Dane 213 

thought to himself: ‘‘ I am now no longer a 
child ; I am well grown, and often eat more than 
Grim can get; indeed, I often eat more than 
Grim and his five children put together. This 
must not be. I will go out with them, and 
sell fish, and work for my living. It is no shame 
for a man to toil, but it is shame for one to lie at 
home at ease. May God reward him who has 
fed me up to this day if I never get the chance 
myself! Now will I gladly carry the baskets 
when to-morrow dawns.” 

So Havelok worked with a will, and sold 
his fish to such good account that he brought 
home a store of silver; and of this he kept not 
a farthing for himself, but gave it all to Grim. 

Now, about that time it so befell that a great 
dearth arose in that land, and there was no corn 
to make bread. Great anxiety began to fill* the 
mind of Grim, for he knew not how to feed his 
family. Havelok was his chief trouble, for he 
was big and strong, and could easily eat more 
than ever he could get for him. And no longer 
were fish plentiful in those seas as before. He 
did not think of his own children ; all his thought 
was how Havelok should fare. So he went to 
him and said : “ Havelok, dear son, I fear we 


214 Stories of Eirly England 

must soon die of hunger in this great dearth. It 
will be better for you that you go hence, and 
dwell no longer here, or else it may be too late. 
For me it matters not, but for you it is good that 
you go to Lincoln, that fine town that you have 
often visited with me. Many a good man dwells 
therein, and there you may get food. But, alas ! 
your clothes are .so torn that I must make you 
fresh ones out of my sail, else will you take 
cold.” 

So he took the shears off the nail where they 
hung, and made Havelok a coat out of the sail; 
and the lad soon had it on. He had neither 
stockings nor shoes, nor any other garments, 
and so set off barefoot to Lincoln. 

When he arrived at the city he knew not where 
to look for friends or food, and for two days he 
wandered about in a fasting condition. On the 
third day he heard a call of “ Porters, porters ! 
Hither come all of you! ” 

Then all the poor who were afoot ran hurriedly 
forward; and amongst them Havelok fought his 
way, pushing down nine or ten into the mud, and 
so stood foremost before the Earl’s Cook, who was 
buying meat at the bridge. He was bidden to 
carry the food to the castle, and there was given 


Story of Havelok the Dane 215 

a farthing cake for his trouble. The next clay 
he kept a sharp lookout for the Cook, till he 
saw him on the bridge, with a quantity of fish 
at his side which had been- sent from Cornwall, 
and heard him call: “ Porters, porters, come 
quickly ! ” 

Then Havelok rejoiced, and, having knocked 
down all who tried to hinder him (even sixteen 
strong lads), he rushed up to the Cook with his 
fish basket, and began to pick up the fish. 
Nearly a cart-load he carried up to the castle ; 
and when they had taken his burden from him, 
the Cook, who stood by, looked on him, and see¬ 
ing what a stalwart fellow he was, said: ** Will 
you stay with me ? I will gladly feed you and 
give you what money you are worth.’’ 

Indeed, sir,” answered Havelok, I will 
gladly serve you without any payment, save 
enough to eat. I will fetch your water, and blow 
up your fire, and break sticks for it; and I 
know also how to clean fish and wash dishes, 
and will do all that you require.” 

“ Sit you down, then,” said the Cook very 
kindly, “ and first eat a good meal, for you look 
in sore need.” 

Still as a stone sat Havelok till he had eaten 


216 Stories of Early England 

his fill, and than busily set to work. He brought 
in water and turves and wood, and worked as 
hard all day as if he were a beast of burden. All 
men loved him, for he was so merry and blithe of 
speech, and never showed any sorrow of heart that 
he might feel because of his position. But espe¬ 
cially was he the children’s favorite : he would 
play with the smallest child so gently, and do all 
that the little ones, playing by the wayside, re¬ 
quired of him. Soon he became noted in that 
place for his size and strength and handsome 
looks, and men wondered who he was that he 
should look so well and noble, and yet wear such 
poor, mean clothes. 

' When the Cook heard their talk, he bought 
Havelok a suit of fine new clothes, with shoes 
and stockings, and when he was dressed in them, 
truly he looked the handsomest man who ever 
'lived upon this earth. 

Now, at that time the yearly games were held 
at Lincoln, to which came all the Earl’s men ; 
and Havelok was head and shoulders taller than 
any of them, and was both gentle and strong. 
' In those days Earl Godrich ruled in England, 
and he had come into the town of Lincoln with 
I many an Earl and many a Baron to see the great 


Story of Havelok the Dane 217 

games, and to be present at a Council to be held 
at that place. With them came many cham¬ 
pions and lads who were eager to try their 
strength, and so it came about that nine or ten 
young men began a game of skill. The people 
crowded round them, rich and poor, strong and 
weak, champions, ploughmen, and boys, to see 
the game, which was in this wise : In front of 
them stood a tree, and towards this the lads were 
throwing a great stone that was as heavy as a 
young ox. It took a strong man to lift it as 
high as his knee, and no one could raise it as 
high as his breast. This stone the champions 
now began to throw, or ^‘put” as they called it, 
while the Barons crowded round to see, and the 
man who could put it even an inch in front of 
another was hailed as champion of them all. In 
the midst of .the noise and quarrelling over which 
had thrown farthest stood Havelok, looking on, 
for he had never before seen such a game. 

His master saw him there, and bade him try 
his luck. Forthwith he stepped forward, and, 
catching up that heavy stone, he put it beyond 
the others a distance of twelve feet or more. 

When the champions saw the deed, they 
nudged each other, laughing, and wished no 


218 Stories of Early England 

more to try the “putting,” saying: “ We stay 
here too long! ” Very soon it was known by 
everyone that Havel ok had thrown the stone 
farther than anyone; and men began to talk ad¬ 
miringly of his size and strength and good looks, 
both in castle and in hall, throughout the land, 
till at length the news came to the ears of God- 
rich. 

III. HOW HAVELOK AND GOLDBOROUGH CAME 
TO DENMARK 

No sooner had Godrich heard of the strength 
and fame of Havelok than an idea struck him, 
which he thought, when carried out, would en¬ 
sure his keeping possession of the kingdom, and 
his son after him. So he said to himself: 
“ Through this lad will I keep all England in my 
hands. King Athelwold made me swear very 
solemnly that I should give his daughter in mar¬ 
riage to the tallest, strongest, best, and handsom¬ 
est man I could find. Now, where shall I find 
one so tall or skilful as this Havelok .? He, then, 
shall be the man to marry Goldborough.” 

This he devised in treachery, for he thought 
that Havelok was some low-born fellow, who 
would never be considered fit to hold an acre of 


Story of Havelok the Dane 219 

land, even if he married her who was heir to all 
England, and thus both would be put aside, and 
his son would succeed him without a word 
against him. 

So he sent for Goldborough to come to Lincoln, 
and pretended to give her a joyous greeting, with 
bells ringing and merry-making. Then he told 
her that he was about to marry her to the fairest 
man in the land. But she answered at once, and 
said that she would marry no man, however fair 
he was, who was not a King or heir to a kingdom. 

Then Godrich the Earl was very wroth, and 
said: Will you indeed come the Queen and 

Lady over me ? You shall marry a vagabond— 
that is the only King you shall have. You shall 
marry my cook’s servant, and to-morrow shall 
the wedding take place.” 

Then Goldborough wept sore, and wished that 
she were dead. 

When morning came, and the day-bells were 
ringing from the church tower, the wicked Earl 
sent for Havelok, and said to him : “ Here, fel¬ 
low, will you have a wife ? ” 

Not I,” answered Havelok. “ What should 
I do with a wife ? I could neither feed nor 
clothe her, nor put shoes on her feet. And 


220 Stories of Early England 

where should I take a wife if I had one ? I have 
no relations, and neither cottage nor house, sticks 
nor clothes, except an old white cloak. These 
very garments that I have on are the cook’s, and 
I am his servant.” 

Then Earl Godrich sprang up, and fell upon 
him with a heavy stick, and began to beat him 
very sorely, saying; “ If you do not take the 
woman I shall give you, and marry her, I will 
have you hanged, or you shall have your eyes 
thrust out.” 

Havelok was so frightened at his threats that 
he agreed to do what he wished. And forthwith 
the Earl called in the fairest maiden he had ever 
seen in his life, and said to her: “If you do not 
marry this man I will drive you out of the land, 
or send you to the gallows-tree, where you shall 
be burnt.” 

Then Goldborough, through fear, promised to 
do what he required. The Archbishop of York, 
who was present at the Council, was called in to 
jharry them, and, after giving them a small sum 
of money, the Earl went away. 

Havelok now knew not what to do for the 
best. But after much thought he saw that the 
Earl hated them, and that it would be better to 


Story of Havelok the Dane 221 

get away from Lincoln, so he determined to go 
to Grimsby, and visit his foster-father. 

Thither they hurried as fast as they could go, 
but when they reached the place, they found that 
Grim and his wife were dead. Their five chil¬ 
dren were there, however, and rejoiced to see 
Havelok, saying: “ Welcome, dear Lord, and wel¬ 
come to your fair wife ! You may do with us 
what you will, if only you will stay with us. For 
we are well off now, and have horses and nets 
and boats, and gold and silver money, which 
Grim, our father, bade us take care of for you. 
We have sheep, too, and pigs. Only remain 
here, and all shall be yours. You shall be our 
Lord and master, and we will be your servants, 
and our sisters shall do your wife’s bidding. 
'1 hey will wash and dry her clothes, and bring 
water for her hands, for we would have her live 
as a lady should.” 

Then they hastened to make a fire, and cooked 
a supper for which neither geese nor chickens 
were spared, and so a joyous feast was made. 

Now, that night, when all the rest were asleep, 
Goldborough lay weeping because she had not 
married a King’s son. Then on a sudden she 
saw a bright light shine in the room, and could 


222 Stories of Early England 

not think where it came from, but soon she saw 
that it came from her husband’s mouth as he lay 
asleep. “ What can this mean > ” thought Gold- 
borough. “ Surely it betokens that he will be 
a nobleman one day, if he is not one already.” 
Then, coming nearer, she saw a beautiful cross 
marked in gold on his shoulder, and heard a 
voice, which seemed that of an angel, saying : 
“ Goldborough, sorrow no longer, for Havelok, 
thy husband, is a King’s son and a King’s heir— 
and that is what is meant by the cross upon his 
shoulder. It means also that he shall be King 
both of England and of Denmark; and thou 
shalt s^e it, and be Queen and Lady in those 
lands.” 

Then was Goldborough full of joy; and she 
bent over Havelok, and kissed him, so that he 
awoke, saying: “ I have had such a strange 
dream. I thought I was in Denmark, on the top 
of the,, -highest hill that ever I saw, so that it 
seemed that I looked down on all the earth. 
And as I sat upon that peak, I began to own all 
Denmark, and when I stretched out my arms 
they were so long that they embraced the whole 
land. The keys of all the castles fell at my feet, 
and all those who lived therein were clasped in 


Story of Havelok the Dane 223 

my arms. Then I dreamed another dream. I 
thought I flew over the salt sea to England, 
taking with me all those who lived in Denmark, 
except the bondmen and their wives, and took 
the whole of England in my hand. And then, 
Goldborough, I gave it to you. What can ■ this 
mean ” 

Then said she: “What should it mean but 
that you will one day wear the crown of England. 
Denmark shall kneel at your feet, and all the 
castles in that land shall be yours, together with 
those who live therein, and you shall be a great 
King within a year. Now, take us both to Den¬ 
mark without delay, for ‘ helpfulness and success 
are companions.’ And for me, I shall never be 
happy till I have seen Denmark, for I am sure 
that one day you will own that country. Ask all 
three of Grim’s sons to go with you. I am sure 
they will not refuse, for they love you dearly. 
See that they make ready a ship without delay, 
for ‘ tarrying has often been the cause of 
harm.’ ” 

Then Havelok remembered his early days, 
and he prayed for vengeance upon Godard, who 
had done his best to kill him, and still thought 
him dead. He went forthwith to Grim’s three 


224 Stories of Early England 

sons, and told them his story: how his father 
had been King of Denmark, of the tate that had 
overtaken his two little sisters, and how Grim 
had saved his life. He told them, too, that he 
should never be happy till he had seen Denmark 
again, and promised one day to make them rich 
men if they would go with him. To this they 
gladly agreed, and Havelok, with his young wife. 
Gold bo rough, set sail with them to Denmark. 
When they reached that land they travelled 
through it until they came to the castle of a great 
Danish earl, named Ubbe, who had been a good 
friend to King Brikabeyn. Havelok visited him, 
and begged that he might be allowed to settle in 
that part of the country, and get a living by 
trading. When he had finished speaking, he 
took out a valuable gold ring, and gave it to the 
Earl. 

Then Ubbe’s heart went out to Havelok, and 
looking on him with favor, he said to himself: 
“ Why is this fine young man not a knight ? 
Surely he is better fit to wear a helmet and hold 
a spear and shield than to buy and sell merchan¬ 
dise." 

But of this he showed nothing; only he 
granted Havelok's request, and bade him come 


Story of Havelok the Dane 225 

to a feast that he had made. Nor would he take 
denial, but rode away, repeating; “ See that ye 
both come.” 

And so it came to pass that the beauty of 
Goldborough and the strength and fair speech of 
Havelok so won Ubbe’s heart that he sent a 
company of ten knights, and about sixty other 
men, to bring them in safety to the chief man in 
all that district, whose name was Bernard Brun. 
This good man gladly received Havelok, and 
made him a good supper at his house. / ^ 

Now, as they sat at supper, a gang of thieves, 
some sixty in number, armed with swords and 
knives, attacked the house, crying: “ Unfasten, 
Bernard, and let us in, or we will kill you and 
yours!” ^ ^ 

Then Bernard, who was a big, strong man, 
snatched up an axe, and went to the door, and 
bade them begone, saying that if he opened the 
door they should pay for it with their lives. But 
they answered that they were not afraid of him, 
and that if he would not open the door they 
would get in without his help; and forthwith 
they seized a great boulder, and dashed it against 
the door, so that it burst open. When Havelqk 
saw this, he threw the door wide open, crying: 


o 



226 Stories of Early England 

‘‘ Now that you have come, here shall you stay! 
Come quickly in, and a curse on him who runs 
away!” Then three of the robbers leaped at 
Havelok with their swords, but he snatched up 
the bar of the door, and slew them all. Then he 
turned on the rest, smashing the head of one, 
the eye of another, and the back of a third, until 
he had slain seven of them. The rest of the 
thieves then made a rush at Havelok with their 
swords, and would have overpowered him had 
not Hugh Raven, one of the sons of Grim, who 
had all followed Havelok afar off, heard the 
noise, and, thinking something was wrong with 
his dear lord, summoned the other two, and 
rushed to the rescue. Robert, the eldest, held 
a great staff; William, the next, a tree thicker 
than the staff; while Hugh carried an oar. 
Bernard still held his axe fast enough; and 
valiantly they fought by Havelok’s side till all 
the sixty thieves lay dead upon the ground. 

IV. HOW HAVELOK BECAME KING OF ENGLAND 

Next morning news was brought to Earl Ubbe 
that Havelok had killed sixty of his bravest 
servants with a club. The good Earl was much 


Story of Havelok the Dane 227 

disquieted to hear this, and that he might get at 
the truth of so extraordinary a story, he jumped 
on his horse, and rode to the house of Bernard, 
and asked what the report meant. Then Bern¬ 
ard came out to him with torn clothes and 
bruised face, and said: Indeed, if it had 

not been for this good man Havelok, I should 
not now be alive, for my house was attacked 
by sixty thieves, who broke in, and would have 
overpowered me, if Havelok had not seized the 
bolt of the door and fought them as if he 
had been a thousand men instead of one. But, 
alas, poor fellow, he was so roughly handled that 
he is wounded severely in the side and arm and 
thigh, and has received as well more than 
twenty other wounds ; yet, in spite of all, he has 
left not one of these sixty robbers alive." 

Then Ubbe said : “ Can this be true } ” And 
all who stood by, young and old, said that Bern¬ 
ard had told but the bare truth. Bring him to 
me, then," cried Ubbe, “if he can walk at all, 
and I will make him a knight for his brave deed." 

Then they brought Havelok to Ubbe, and set 
him upon a horse, for he was too sorely wounded 
to stand upright. After a doctor had attended 
to his hurts, Ubbe bade him, with Goldborough 


228 Stories of Early England 

and his three servants, come back to his castle, 
and stay under his protection, lest the robbers’ 
friends should lie in wait to slay him in revenge. 
So he brought him back, and gave him a fine 
room next his own, in a high tower, where they 
could visit each other whenever they liked. 

The first night that Havelok slept in this 
room Earl Ubbe saw a bright light streaming 
through the partition between the two rooms, 
and rose up to see what it might mean. Look¬ 
ing through a hole he saw that Havelok was ly¬ 
ing fast asleep, and that a brilliant ray of light 
shone from out his mouth. So astonished was 
he that he summoned very quietly a number of 
his knights and followers, and bade them look, 
and they all observed the same strange appear 
ance. When they looked closer still, they saw 
on his right shoulder, which was uncovered, a 
bright cross, shining as though made of gold, and 
then all knew that he was the son of a king. 

** Truly,” cried Ubbe, he must be the son of 
Birkabeyn, for never saw I anyone so like an¬ 
other as he is to our late beloved King.” 

Then he fell at Havelok’s feet, and kissed them, 
so that he awoke, and started up in fear, expect¬ 
ing some treachery. But Ubbe soothed him, and 



Story of Havelok the Dane 229 

told him that he knew now that he was the son 
of Birkabeyn", and, young as he was, he should 
soon be King of all Denmark, and all men should 
do homage to him. Then was Havelok full of 
joy, and thanked God very heartily. 

When the morning was come, Ubbe called 
together a great assembly of earls and barons, 
knights, clerks, farmers, and townsmen, and told 
them the story of Havelok, and how Godard had 
basely betrayed the trust the King had given 
him. Then he bade them all do homage to the 
young prince, and he himself was the first to 
kneel and declare himself his ** man.” One after 
another followed, and all swore to be faithful to 
Havelok. After they had so done Ubbe sent 
word throughout all Denmark, until there was 
not one who had not heard the glad tidings, and 
come to Ubbe and sworn homage. Then Ubbe 
took a bright sword, and with it he dubbed 
Havelok knight, and all the people received him 
as their King. 

A great feast was held at this ceremony, and 
all kinds of amusements began. Some of the 
men fell to tilting at each other with sharp 
spears; others skirmished with sword and buck¬ 
ler. There were wrestling matches and “put- 


530 Stories of Early Eiiglanci 

ting the stone” ; tunes on the harp and pi{jes 
and playing with dice; romances were told or 
read, gleemen sang and played ; there was bull¬ 
baiting and a boar hunt; and the whole story of 
Grim was acted for the people’s benefit. Not 
forgetting his old friends, the new-made King 
created Robert and William and Hugh Ravenj 
his old friendsj barons, and gave them land and 
money as much as they could wish. The feast 
was held for forty days, and when it was over. 
King Havelok kept back a thousand brave 
knights to follow himj and five thousand servants 
to fight for him^ and he made fifty of the former 
and all the latter swear that they would never 
rest till they had found Godard and brought him 
before the King in chains. 

It so happened that Robert, whd had been 
made the general of the army, was the first to 
' _ meet Godard, as he Was riding along a path to 
;-^the hunt. Stopping in front of his horse, 
Robert cried : “ Stay, fellow ! What are you 
doing here ? You must come to the King, whb 
bids you remember what you did to him and his : 
how you slew his little sisters and ordered that he 
should be drowned in the sea. All this he knows, 
and you shall meet with due reward at his hands.” 


Story of Havelok the Dane 23i 

When Godard heard that he dealt a heavy 
blow at the speaker; but Robert snatched out a 
long knife, and struck him in the arm, so that he 
eould fight no longer. Then would his followers 
have slain Robert had not William and Hugh, 
with five lads, come up and soon killed ten 
of Godard’s men, and when they saw this all 
the rest of his troop ran away. Then Godard 
cried after them, and besought them, saying: 
“ Will ye, whom I have fed and clothed, run 
from me in my danger and let Havelok work 
his will on me ? ” Hearing these words they 
returned, and killed a knight and wounded 
several of the King’s men ; but when the rest of 
the King’s troop had come up they fell on the 
followers of Godard, and left not one alive save 
the Earl himself. Him they took and tightly 
bound, and set upon a horse, with his face 
turned to the tail, and so was he brought to 
Havelok. When he arrived, the King quickly 
called Ubbe and all his earls and baronsj 
burghers and knights, and bade them act as 
judges. Then sat they down on benches round 
the wall and held trial of Godard, and presently 
said to the King, who sat quite silently by them l 
“ We give it our judgment that he should be flayed 


232 Stories of Early England 

alive, and then hung on the gallows in chains. 
On the gallows should these words be placed : 
‘“This is that wicked man who was well aware 
that he had robbed the King of his land, and his 
sisters of their lives.’ ” 

So this was the end of the false traitor God¬ 
ard, and with his money and land the King 
founded a monastery, in memory of the good 
fisherman Grim, in that town which still bears 
his name. 

Now, when Godrich, Earl of Cornwall, heard 
that Havelok was King of Denmark, that he 
was coming with a strong force to conquer Eng¬ 
land, and that the fair Princess Goldborough 
had already landed with him at Grimsby, he was 
full of grief and rage, and swore to kill them both. 
Without delay he raised a great army, and 
summoned it to meet at Lincoln on the 17th of 
March. When the soldiers were gathered to¬ 
gether, he excited their minds against Havelok 
by telling them that the Danish army was spoil¬ 
ing the land, burning churches, robbing monas¬ 
teries, binding priests, and strangling monks and 
nuns, and warned them that there would be 
neither peace nor safety in the land till the 
Danes were driven out. Then all the earls 


Story of Havelok the Dane 233 

cried out that they would follow Godrich to the 
battlefield, and so the English army marched on 
Grimsby. 

Then out rode Havelok with his three foster- 
brothers, and slew the foremost men of the 
attack ; but Ubbe, keen for the fray, pricked on 
his horse until he found himself face, to face 
with Earl Godrich himself. Bravely fought the 
Earl for his life, and sorely did he wound Ubbe, 
.and would have slain him outright had not Hugh 
Raven come to the rescue and carried Ubbe 
away. Then Godrich with his men turned 
fiercely on the Danes, who began to give way 
before ^him, seeing that so many of their com¬ 
rades had been killed. 

At length Havelok made his way through the 
throng, and riding up to Godrich, cried out 
to him : 

** Godrich, who are you who thus slay my 
good knights and behave in this manner to me "i 
You know full well, if you come to think on it, 
how Athelwold bade you swear, on your knees, 
by all that is holy, that you would give to his 
daughter, when she was woman grown, the 
realm of England. Well you know it, Godrich 
the Earl! Now call I upon you to give up this 


234 Stories of Early England 

land without further fighting, for that alone 
is right to do. Then will I forgive you the 
wrong you have done, seeing you are such 
a valiant knight.” 

Then Godrich answered : “ That will I never 
do; but I will kill you and hang her high upon 
a tree; and, unless you flee from hence, I will 
thrust out that eye with which you look on me 
at this moment.” 

Seizing his sword, with these words, he gave 
Havelok such a blow that he cut his shield 
in two, but when Havelok knew it, he smote the 
Earl on the head, so that he fell to the ground. 
For a moment only he lay there; then, springing 
up anew, he struck Havelok on the shoulder, so 
that he broke through the hinged mail of 
his corselet, and wounded him sorely. But 
Havelok swung up his good sword, and cut 
off the arm which had struck him with One bloW;, 
and, seizing him by the neck, bound him hand 
and foot as a traitor. In this condition he sent 
him to Queen Goldborough, bidding her keep 
him close prisoner till he should be tried, as 
a knight, by the knights of the land. 

When all the people of England knew that 
the fair Goldborough was their rightful Queen, 


Story of Havelok the Dane 235 

and that she was wedded to Havelok, that bold 
warrior, they all hastened to do homage to her, 
and to him as their King. Six of the great 
earls of the land first approached her, and, fall¬ 
ing weeping on their knees, said : “ Lady, have 
mercy upon us, because we have not been faith¬ 
ful to you ; for we know now that all England 
belongs to you as King Athelwold’s heir, and 
that this rascal Godrich, who wrongfully held it 
all these years, deserves to be hung, and that 
soon.” 

Then Havelok bade them pass judgment on 
the Earl; and when they condemned him, God- 
rich was led into Lincoln, tied upon an ass, with 
his face turned towards the tail, and, being tied 
to a stake in the midst of the market-green, was 
burnt for his many sins. 

When this was accomplished, Havelok and Gold- 
borough received the homage of all the English 
amidst scenes of great rejoicing. But they 
did not forget their old friends among so many 
new ones. The Earl of Chester, a brave young 
knight, was singled out by Havelok to be the 
husband of Gunild, the daughter of Grim^ and 
with her he gave him a rich gift and many 
favors. Next he sent for Bertram, the Earl’s 


236 Stories of Early England 

cook, and said to him : “ My friend, for your 
good advice and kindness to me in former days, 
when I was in much need, you shall have rich 
reward, for when I was in rags and misery 
you fed'and clothed me freely. Now you shall 
be Earl of Cornwall, and have all the land 
of Godrich for your own, as well as a fair wife. 
Levy, the second daughter of my benefactor 
Grim.” 

After this Havelok was escorted by the Eng¬ 
lish and Danish armies to London, where he was 
crowned King, and Goldborough Queen. Then 
the Danes returned to Denmark, where Ubbe 
ruled, while Havelok resided in England. 

For sixty years did Havelok rule this country 
with Goldborough, his beloved Queen. Brave 
sons and daughters they brought up, who all be¬ 
came kings and queens in after days; and so 
the name of Havelok was beloved through all 
the land. 

From “ The Lay of Havelok.About 1300 a. d. 


ANOTHER RIDDLE OF CYNEWULF 

—... J 

(750-790 A.D.) 

“ \ ^ / HO so wary and so wise of the 
\/ \ warriors lives, 

That he dare declare who doth 
drive me on my way, 

When I start up in my strength ! Oft in stormy 
wrath. 

Hugely then I thunder, tear along in gusts. 
Fare above the floor of earth, burn the folk- 
halls down, 

, Ravage all the rooms ! Then the reek ariseth 
Gray above the gables. Great on earth the din 
And the slaughter-qualm of men. Then I shake 
the woodland. 

Forests rich in fruits ; then I fell the trees ;- 

On my back I carry that which covered once 
All the tribes of Earth’s indwellers, spirits and 
all flesh. 

In the sand together ! Say who shuts me in, 

237 




238 Stories of Early England 

Or what is my name— I who bear this bur¬ 
den.” 

\The answer is a Storm on Land. That ivhich 
it bears on its back isy of course^ the Water of 
the Floodil 


THE TALE OF SIR CLEGES 


T here lived in the days of King 
Arthur’s father a good knight named 
Sir Cleges. He was so kind and gen¬ 
erous to everyone that after a time he had noth¬ 
ing left for himself and for Claris, his wife, and 
his little children. But still neither he nor his 
wife would despair, but hoped for better days. 
When Christmas-time came, however. Sir 
Cleges grew very despondent, for at that season 
he was wont to feed “ both free and bond.” On 
Christmas Eve he wandered about his garden 
feeling very sad, and inclined to grumble at his 
ill fate ; but his good wife came to him, and, put¬ 
ting her arms round him, kissed him warmly, 
and bade him come in to his solitary meal, and 
be glad in honor of the day. So he went in, 
and played with his children, and made merry 
with them, and on the morrow went to church. 
And as they returned, he went alone into his 
garden, and, kneeling down under a cherry-tree, 
all frost-bitten with the wintry cold, he thanked 

239 • 


240 Stories of Early England 

God for the many blessings he still had left. 
But when he pulled himself up by a bough of 
the tree, strangely enough the bough was green, 
and had ripe cherries growing upon it. This 
was very surprising, and Sir Cleges hastened to 
show them to his wife. She at once proposed 
that he should put the Christmas cherries in a 
basket, and take them as a present to King 
Uther, his old master, in his castle at Cardiff. 
So the knight put on his oldest clothes for the 
journey, and took a staff in his hand, so that 
he looked like a poor beggar, and, with his little 
son by his side to carry the basket of cherries, 
set off for Cardiff. 

When they reached the gate of the castle, how^ 
ever, they found there a very surly porter, who 
'threatened to break the poor man’s head if he at¬ 
tempted to go in. So Sir Cleges called his son, 
and opened the basket, and showed the marvel-, 
lous cherries to the man. When he saw them, 
and foresaw what great gifts they would draw 
from the King, he allowed Sir Cleges to enter, on 
condition that he promised him a third of what 
King Uther gave him. 

The knight agreed, and, passing in at the gate, 
soon came to the door of the hall; and there 


The Tale of Sir Cleges 24l 

stood the usher, grim and tall, with staff in his 
hand. He too spoke very roughly to the beggar, 
as he seemed to be, and only allowed him to pass 
the door on condition that he too received a third 
of the King’s gift. Inside the hall the steward 
met him, and would have turned him out at once 
had not he seen the cherries and made the same 
bargain as the others. 

Then Sir Cleges made his way to the King’s 
room, opening out of the hall, and, kneeling 
down, presented his gift. King Uther was much 
astonished and delighted, and at once bade the 
beggar ask whatever he would, saying it should 
be granted him. And this was the request of 
Sir Cleges, who was inwardly raging at the 
way he had been treated by the King’s underr- 
lings. 

“Grant me, I pray you,” said he, “twelve 
strokes to be given to whom I please.” 

“ Far better,” answered Uther, “ had you 
asked gold or land, for you look in sore need of 
both.” 

But the knight replied: “You promised I 
should have what I asked, O King, and of that 
am I right glad.” The King was very sorry; 
but he could not take back his words, so he gave 

p 


242 Stories of Early England 

him leave to “ deal twelve strokes when and 
where he would.” 

Then the knight went out to teach a lesson of 
charity, and he certainly taught it in no gentle 
way. ffe entered the hall, and sought out the 
proud steward among all the lords who were pres¬ 
ent there, and gave him a- blow with his staff 
which knocked him to the ground, and then, ful¬ 
filling his promise of a third of the King’s gift, 
he gave him three strokes more, until the stew¬ 
ard cried: “ Sir, for thy courtesy, strike me not 
again.” 

Sir Cleges then went to seek the usher. 
“ Have here thy promised part of my gift,” said 
he, and gave him four such blows as would pre¬ 
vent him showing anyone the way for a very long 
time. Lastly, he went out to the porter, and 
treated him in the same way, saying grimly : 
“ Now thou hast the third part of my gift, accord¬ 
ing to our agreement.” 

When Sir Cleges went back into the hall he 
found the King had taken his place there, and 
was listening to the songs of a harper. Now, 
when Sir Cleges had been rich he had been very 
kind to this harper, who now, seeing the poor at¬ 
tire of his benefactor, made songs about him, 



The Tale of Sir Cleges 243 

telling the King of his generous acts, and re¬ 
minding him how in old days he had been one of 
his bravest followers. Then the King, looking 
upon Sir Cleges, recognised his old knight, and 
received him with joy, and asked him what he had 
meant by his mysterious request, and when Sir 
Cleges told him all, he was greatly amused and de¬ 
lighted. Moreover, he ordered that rich clothes 
be given to the knight and his son, and that his 
wife and the other children should be fetched; 
and he gave him part of Cardiff Castle for his 
own, and much store of money, so that Sir Cleges 
and his wife Claris lived there happily for the 
rest of their lives. 

From the Old English Metrical Poems. Thirteenth cen¬ 
tury. 


THE STORY OF GUY OF WARWICK 


E arl ROhaunt was lord not only 
of Warwick, but also of Oxford and 
Buckingham ; and he had one daughter, 
Felice, as learned as she was beautiful. As his 
lands were so wide, he put the management of 
most of them into the hands of his steward, 
Segurd of Wallingford, who had one son, named 
Guy. This Guy, a graceful, brave, and comely 
youth, became cup-bearer to the Earl, and, as 
he lived in the castle, was known as Guy of 
Warwick. 

^ , It was part of Guy’s duty to look after the 
welfare of the ladies of the castle, and hence he 
often came across the fair Felice, and so it hap¬ 
pened that he fell deeply in love with her. But 
she only knew him as the lad who waited behind 
her father’s chair or held the bowl of water in 
which she might wash her hands after meat, so 
when he asked her to marry him, she haughtily 
refused. He would not take her refusal, how¬ 
ever ; and when she saw that he was a goodly 
244 


The Story of Guy of Warwick 245 

youth, and that he loved her very dearly, she 
had pity on him, and told him that if he could 
be made a knight, she might become his wife. 

This was no hard matter to accomplish, for he 
had already won much favor at the hand of 
Earl Rohaunt. Within a few days he had been 
dubbed a knight, and in all haste sought his fair 
lady, and begged her again to marry him. But 
P'elice treated him very coldly, saying that the 
mere name of knight meant nothing, and that 
she would never marry him till he had performed 
such deeds of glory that there should be no one 
like him in all the world. When he had shown 
himself the “ flower of all chivalry,” then would 
she marry him, and not before. So Sir Guy said 
farewell to the Earl and to his parents, and 
went off to seek adventures in the wide, wide 
world. 

The first place he stayed was at Rouen, where 
a very magnificent tournament had just been pro¬ 
claimed in honor of the beautiful Princess 
Blanchefleur, daughter of the Emperor of 
Germany. A number of famous knights had 
come to contend at the tournament; and the 
prize for the winner was a milk-white falcon, a 
white horse, and two white greyhounds, and, in 


246 Stories of Early England 

addition, the winner might claim the hand of the 
princess in marriage if he pleased. 

Sir Guy was delighted with this chance of 
adventure. Every day he contended with the 
most renowned knights in Christendom, and every 
time he was victorious. At the end of the tour¬ 
nament the prize was awarded unanimously to 
Sir Guy of Warwick. But when a messenger 
came to Guy, bringing the awards and offering 
the hand of the Princess, the faithful knight sent 
a respectful and friendly message to Blanchefleur, 
but would not even stay to see her. And his 
rich prize he sent to England, to be laid at the 
feet of Felice. 

For a whole year he travelled about, attending 
every tournament, and winning the prize at each, 
until he was well known as the bravest and most 
accomplished knight in Christendom. Then he 
determined to return home, and, after visiting 
the court of King Athelstan in London, he went 
to Warwick where Earl Rohaunt, her parents, 
and all the castle folk received him with joy and 
honor. Only the fair Felice still looked coldly 
at him; telling him that, though he was one of 
the most renowned knights in Christendom, he 
was not yet acknowledged by everyone to be 


The Story of Guy of Warwick 247 

without a single rival. So, though she was now 
proud to call him her knight, she sent him away 
again to reach the very topmost pinnacle of glory. 
In vain his parents tried to keep him back; he 
was soon a wanderer once more, with a little 
band of brave knights as his companions. 

Many a fight he took part in, and many a 
good blow he struck, until at length he set forth 
to fight for the Grecian Emperor, who was be¬ 
sieged in Constantinople by the Saracen Soudan 
and his army. The Emperor received the fa¬ 
mous knight with much joy, and promised him, 
as a reward for his help, the hand of his beau¬ 
tiful daughter Loret. As usual. Sir Guy was 
victorious in every battle, and this made the 
Soudan so angry that he determined to make a 
secret assault on the city at the head of all his 
forces. The knight learnt this by means of 
spies, and, having arranged his men beforehand, 
met the assault of the Saracen with such a fu¬ 
rious attack that fifteen acres of ground before 
the city were covered with the bodies of the en¬ 
emy, and Constantinople was delivered. 

But a great danger now threatened the brave 
Sir Guy. Sir Morgradour, the steward of the 
Emperor of Germany, and one of his own knight 


248 Stories of Early England 

companions, had fallen in love with the Princess 
Loret, and determined to win her hand and the 
crown of Constantinople by getting rid of Guy 
of Warwick. Knowing that the Soudan had 
sworn to kill every Christian who fell into his 
power, Sir Morgradour suggested to the Em¬ 
peror that one of his Court should bear a pro¬ 
posal to the Soudan offering to settle the quar¬ 
rel by single combat between a Christian and 
Saracen champion. To this the Emperor agreed, 
and made a proclamation in the Court, asking 
who was willing to become the bearer of this 
proposal to the Soudan. No one spoke, till, as 
Sir Morgradour hoped, Guy of Warwick sprang 
from his seat, and demanded to be the bearer of 
the message. 

The Emperor, alarmed at the idea of this dan¬ 
ger for his proposed son-in-law, tried to persuade 
him not to go, saying that the proposal was only 
meant to try the spirit and courage of his sub¬ 
jects. But Guy would not hear a word. He 
leaped on his horse without touching the stirrup, 
clad in his suit of armor, and rode forth through 
the tents of the Scaracen host, until he came to a 
pavilion in which was set a great carbuncle stone, 
and this he knew to be the Soudan’s dwelling. 


The Story of Guy of Warwick 249 

The Soudan was sitting at meat with his fol¬ 
lowers, and Sir Guy, riding up to the table, pro¬ 
ceeded to deliver his message in no very polite 
terms. The Soudan was silent with astonish¬ 
ment at first, but directly he could speak he 
ordered Sir Guy to be seized and put to death. 
But this was easier to order than to do ; and 
meantime the knight made a rush upon the Sou¬ 
dan, cut off his head, picked it up with one hand, 
while he slew half-a-dozen Saracens with the 
other, leaped upon his horse, and rode off through 
the astounded host. In this w^y he delivered 
fthe Emperor from all his foes. Meantime, so 
long had Guy of Warwick been absent from his 
native land that he had almost forgotten the 
beautiful Felice, and when the Emperor urged 
him to marry his daughter Loret, he agreed to 
do so. While preparations were being made a 
strange companion was added to his retinue. 

One day he was riding with the Emperor, 
when he saw a terrible fight between a lion and 
a dragon. Sir Guy could never see a fight of 
any kind without wanting to be in the thick of 
it, and, seeing the lion was hard pressed, he 
rushed foward, and after a terrific combat killed 
the dragon, and cut off his head. When this 


250 Stories of Early England 

was done he turned his horse, and would have 
ridden away, but to his surprise the lion followed 
him, and ran before him like a dog, leaping up 
to his horse’s neck. At first Guy thought he 
meant mischief, and, getting off his horse, pre¬ 
pared to fight him, but directly he alighted the 
lion lay down like a lamb, and licked his feet. 
So the knight rode on, with the creature at his 
side; and everywhere he went he was followed 
by the lion, who lay by his chair at table and 
before his bed at night. 

By this time all was ready for the marriage, 
and a great feast was prepared, at which it was 
arranged that Sir Guy should have half the em¬ 
pire, and the rest at the Emperor’s death. 

But, strange to say, although so many years 
had passed since he had seen his former love, 
tbe sight of the wedding ring brought back all 
his affection for Felice, and he was filled with 
shame that he should have thought of deserting 
her. “No other maid my love shall have,” he 
said to himself; but the difficulty was to avoid 
the marriage with Loret without mortally offend¬ 
ing the Emperor. Worry made him ill for a 
time, and caused a welcome delay, and than an 
unexpected incident settled the matter. Sir 


■ The Story of Guy of Warwick 251 

Morgradour, who still hoped to do Guy an ill 
turn, was one day prowling about the gardens of 
the palace, when he found Guy’s lion, his faith¬ 
ful guardian, asleep in an arbor. The cruel 
and cowardly knight dealt the poor beast a blow 
with his sword so hard that the lion was only 
just able to crawl to his master’s chamber, where 
he lay at his feet, and died. Sir Guy was bit¬ 
terly grieved at his loss, and swore to kill who¬ 
ever had struck the blow. A maiden of the 
Court had watched the scene, and now told 
what had occurred, and Guy promptly revenged 
the death of his favorite. But Sir Morgradour 
had been the steward of the Emperor of Ger¬ 
many, and a quarrel seemed likely to occur be¬ 
tween the two rulers on his account. To pre¬ 
vent this, Guy, glad of the excuse, left the Court, 
and set out for England. 

During all these years Felice had found leisure 
to regret her former coldness to her faithful 
lover, and many a time she wished for his return. 
In those days it was difficult to get news from 
distant lands; but pilgrims occasionally visited 
the Court of the Earl of Warwick, and of these, 
one and all sang the praises of that marvellous 
knight. Sir Guy. _, 


252 Stories of Early England 

At length she heard that the county of Nor¬ 
thumberland was being laid waste by a terribly 
fierce dragon, “as black as any coal.” No man 
could pierce his body for its hardness ; he had 
claws like a lion and great wings for flight. 
Then came the joyous news that a stranger 
knight had appeared upon the scene, and after a 
tremendous conflict had slain the dragon, and cut 
off his head. The rumor began to spread that 
the stranger was none other than the famous Guy 
of Warwick, and, sure enough, within a short time 
he appeared at the Earl’s Court. Then he pre¬ 
sented himself before Felice, and told her how he 
had sped, of his many adventures and of how an 
emperor had been eager to give him half his 
kingdom, and his daughter for a wife. “ And all 
this I forsook truly for thee, Felice,” said Sir 
Guy. 

Then Felice confessed her own love for the 
^brave knight, and ere long the marriage bells 
were ringing from every tower in the county of 
Warwick for the fair Felice and for the brave 
Sir Guy. 


Thirteenth or early fourteenth century. 


THE STORY OF SIR EGLAMOUR 


T here once lived a certain count 
called Prinsamour, who had a very 
beautiful daughter, Chrystabel by 
name. When she grew up her father wished her 
to make a grand marriage; but she was not so 
ambitious, and looked with kindness upon a hand¬ 
some young knight of the court, named Elgamopr. 

The moment Sir Elgamour first set eyes on 
her he loved her very deeply ; but it was a long 
time before he could summon up courage to ask 
her to be his wife. To his great joy she prom- 
ished to marry him, if he could gain her father’s 
consent. 

But when Sir Prinsomour heard this he was 
very angry, for it threatened to disappoint his 
high hopes, and he at once began to think out a 
plan by which he could get rid of Sir Eglamour. 
He said that the man who wished to marry his 
daughter must win her by accomplishing three 
noble deeds, each of which would expose him to 
very great risk of his life. 

253 


254 Stories of Early England 

Nothing daunted, Sir Eglamour waited to hear 
what was required ere the precious prize could 
be won. 

Then the count said : “ A short distance from 
here you will find a forest of noble trees, belong¬ 
ing to a most terrible giant, called Maroke. In 
this forest are three harts, remarkable for their 
size and swiftness. You must chase one of these 
animals, but you will afterwards have to fight 
the giant Maroke. Think well, therefore, 
whether you have strength for such an under¬ 
taking.” 

Sir Eglamour willingly accepted this enterprise, 
and hastened to tell fair Chrystabel what had 
passed. The maiden at once informed him that 
she possessed a wonderful greyhound, from whom 
no hart could ever escape, and gladly gave it to 
her lover, together with a magic sword. With 
these gifts from his lady Sir Elgamour set off, 
and soon entered the forest. The great size of 
the trees and of the harts astonished him not a 
little; but in a very short time the greyhound 
pulled down the largest of the animals. Forth¬ 
with Sir Eglamour blew the death note upon his 
horn, and proceeded to carry off the venison. 
But he soon encountered the giant, much en- 


The Story of Sir Eglamoiir 255 

raged, who at once aimed a blow at him with an 
enormous club, which would then and there have 
settled the matter, but that at the same moment 
Sir Eglamour drew his sword, which shone so 
brightly that it rendered the giant absolutely 
blind. Despite this, however, the battle raged 
for two whole days, until at length, very early on 
the third day, the knight found an opportunity, 
and struck the giant dead to the ground. Then 
Sir Eglamour cut off his head, and carried it, to¬ 
gether with the venison, to his sovereign ; and 
all save the count received him with congrat¬ 
ulations. 

The second quest was to bring from a distant 
land the head of an enormous boar, whose tusks 
were a yard long, and who had devoured most 
of the inhabitants of that country; and after 
resting three days the knight departed. Travel¬ 
ling by land and sea, he reached at length a vast 
forest, and luckily came at once upon the mon¬ 
ster, as he was returning from his morning bath 
in the sea. The boar saw the knight first, and 
immediately rushed to the attack. In a short 
time he had managed to kill his adversary’s horse, 
and Sir Eglamour was forced to continue the 
battle on foot. For two days and a half they 


256 Stories of Early England 11 

fought, and at length, with a last effort, the knight ' I 
rushed to close quarters, and cut off the boar’s I 
head with a mighty blow. When the people of I 
the land saw that their enemy was dead they I 
come out to thank Elgamour ; and their King I 
gave him a magic ring, which would perserve its | 
wearer from all perils by land or sea. ! 

Thus Sir Eglamour returned joyfully with the I 
boar’s head on his spear, but again the count re- I 
ceived him so coldly that the young knight per- 1 
ceived that he did not mean to keep his promised j 
word. So before beginning his last enterprise | 
he prevailed upon Chrystabel to consent to a | 
secret marriage, in order that her father’s false | 
intentions should be frustrated. Then he j 
presented himself before the count, who ordered || 
him to go to Rome to kill a terrible dragon, which 
was ravaging the land. This task was the most 
perilous of all, but Sir Eglamour did not hesitate 
and at the end of his long journey he found the 
dragon, and fearlessly attacked it. The fight was j 
long and fierce, and the knight well nigh over- ’ 
come. In the end he managed to kill the mon¬ 
ster, but so severely was he wounded that he lay 
ill for many months. In due time his strength 
was restored, and he returned, carrying the head, 




The Story of Sir Eglamour 25? 

tail, and wings of the dragon. But to his great 
grief Chrystabel had vanished. The count had 
discovered the secret marriage, and when a fair 
boy was born to Chrystabel he was so furious 
that he put the young mother and her babe on 
board a boat without sail, oars, or rudder, arid 
they drifted out to sea to perish. But Sir Eg¬ 
lamour had left the magic ring as a keepsake 
with his wife, and under the protection of this 
She and the Child vvere driven by the Winds to 
the coast of Egypt, where the king of that coun¬ 
try received them with the greatest kindness. 
At his court the boy, who was called Degrabell, 
grew lip to be a brave and handsome knight. 
Mis mother in the coiirse df years became more 
lovely than she had been as a girl, and at length 
her beauty moved the King to try to persuade 
her to marry agairi. She was very unwilling to 
do this, for she had never forgotten Sir 
Eglamour, but at lastj to escape his persuasions, 
she promised to marry the knight who could 
overcome her son. Sir Degrabell. The first 
to try the combat was the King himself ; but he 
was quickly overthrown. Then many others 
come forward, and arnongst them Sir Eglamour 
himself, who had spent these long years fighting 
Q 


258 Stories of Early England 

in the Holy Land. One after another fell before 
Sir Degrabell, but when it came to the turn of 
Sir Eglamour he unhorsed the young man with 
the utmost ease. Upon this Chrystabel has¬ 
tened forward, in alarm for her son and in ter¬ 
ror of the unknown knight; but to her surprise 
she saw upon his shield the device of a ship of 
gold, sailing amid high waves, with only a lady 
and child on board. You can guess how great 
was her joy when she thus found that the stran¬ 
ger knight was her long-lost husband. Their 
son, young Degrabell, who had risen unhurt by 
his fall, joined heartily in their delight at this 
reunion; and finding that the count was dead 
they returned, all three, to their own country, 
and lived happily ever after. 

From a Middle English Rofnance. Probably early 
fourteenth century. 


THE STORY OF SIR GAWAYNE AND 
THE GREEN KNIGHT 

I. THE COMING OF THE GREEN KNIGHT 

u 1 

I T was Christmas-time at the Court of King 
Arthur, that famous King of Britain, and all 
was joy in the halls and chambers of the. 
palace at Camelot. 

Lovely ladies and brave knights danced and 
sang together, and had a right merry time until 
the hour of the great feast, which was held 
to celebrate the New Year. 

To this feast were bidden all the lords and 
ladies of the Court, at the head of whom sat 
Arthur’s Queen in a beautiful robe embroidered 
with gems. Lower down at the same table sat 
the squires and pages and ladies-in-waiting, when 
they had done their duty of attending on the 
wants of their masters and mistresses. 

One, however, among this gay company sat at 
the board with a gloomy face and downcast 
air—and this was King Arthur himself. He 
259 


260 Stories of Early England 

Would not touch food, nor even sit still for long, 
but walked up and down with restless looks. 

Presently he told the reason why. P'or years 
it happened that at each New Year one of 
the knights had performed some marvellous deed, 
but this year nothing of the kind had occurred; 
This vexed the King, and though he joined with 
his friends in talk, he would not eat not rest till 
he had witnessed some strange or noble adven¬ 
ture. Beside his seat on the raised platform Sat 
his favorite nephew. Sit Gawayne, who had 
lately been made a knight^ together with others 
of his special friends. Still the King would not 
take his seat. At last, with a great blaSt of 
trumpets, the feast was served; 

Before each pair of guests were set twelve silver 
dishes containing different kinds of meat, beside 
flagons of wine and beer; but scarcely had they 
begun to eat when with a crash the hall door was 
thrown open, and a knight on horseback rushed 
into the room. He was of immense height, with 
a very broad chest and shoulders, and he was 
clothed entirely in green. A richly embroidered 
green cloak, trimmed with fur, fell from hiS 
Shoulders, a green hood was thrown back from 
his hair, and bright golden spurs gleamed froni 


The Story of Sir Gawayne 261 

his green stockings. Even his belt and the 
stones which shone in it were of the same 
hue. He sat upon a green saddle, embroidered 
very beautifully with birds and flies; and the 
horse upon which he rode was as green as grass. 
Its hair was decked with golden threads and its 
tail bound with a green ribbon. A great beard 
like a bush fell upon the knight’s breast: he 
looked like one who could give hard blows 
if occasion offered. In his hands, however, 
he carried neither spear nor shield, but in one a 
holly bough, and in the other an axe, the edge of 
which gle^imed as bright and keen as a rkzor. 

In this array the Green Knight entered Hhe 
hall. 'He bowed to no one, but gazed around 
him, saying in a loud voice: “Where is the 
governor of this company } I would speak 
reason with him.” 

And, having said this, he gazed at each knight 
in turn, as though he would discover by their 
looks which of them had the most renown. 

A great silence had fallen on that gay com¬ 
pany. Never before had they seen so strange a 
figure as this Green Knight, and, partly from 
fear and partly from politeness towards their host, 
they answered nothing. But Arthur stood up on 


262 Stories of Early England 

the raised dais, and welcomed the stranger with 
kindly words. “ Alight from your horse,” he said, 
“and stay a while with us, so that we may know 
your will.” 

“ Nay,” said the knight ; “ I must not linger 
here. But I have heard of your noble followers, 
and also of your courtesy to strangers, and I 
come to seek the most valiant man in your Court, I 
that I may try him. That I am come with no 
hostile intent you may see by my holly branch, 
though at home I have both shield and spear to 
use at need. And now I pray you to grant the 
sport I ask.” 

Then Arthur told him that he should not fail 
in that brave throng to find an opponent worthy 
of him, saying : “ If it is a battle you crave, yuo 
shall quickly find one to fight with you.” 

“ Nay,” answered the Green Knight, looking 
around in scorn ; “I seek no fight with these. 
Here are but beardless children, no fair match 
for me. What I ask is but to play at a Christ¬ 
mas game. There are plenty of brave men here ; 
let one stand forth and strike a blow with this axe 
of mine, which shall be his reward for that deed ; 
with it he shall strike, and I will abide the stroke. 
All I demand is that I am allowed to give him a 



The Story of Sir Gawayne 263 

blow in return within a twelvemonth and a 
day.” 

At these words a deep silence fell upon the 
Court; while all men, both high and low, stared 
in dismay upon the stranger knight. But the 
Green One laughed a scornful laugh, rolled his 
red eyes around, bent his green brows, and 
waved his beard to right and left as he cried : 

“ What! is this Arthur’s Court ? Truly it is 
with ease that the glory of the Round Table is 
overturned with a word of one man’s speech I ” 

Then Arthur blushed for shame that such 
words should be spoken, and in hot anger he 
said : “ Not so I No man is afraid of your 
great words in this company. Give me the axe, 
and you shall have your will.” 

At once the Green Knight leaped to the 
ground, and handed the King the axe, and, while 
Arthur flourished it right and left to try its 
weight, the stranger, carelessly stroking his beard 
with one hand, drew down his coat with the 
other, and prepared to meet the blow. But be¬ 
fore aught could be done Sir Gawayne had sprung 
from the dais, and, bending before the King, said : 
“ I beseech thee. Sir King, let this undertaking 
be mine.” 


264 Stories of Early England 

Then as the King hesitated, and would have 
refused, Sir Gawayne explained that it was not 
fair nor seemly that Arthur should do this deed, 
while so many bold ones were anxious to win 
renown. 

“ I know,” said he, that I am the weakest of 
all these noblemen, and that my life would be 
the least loss of any of them ; but I am ready, 
and more than ready, to meet this knight, and as 
you are my uncle, and I have asked first of all, I 
pray you grant me this boon.” 

All the rest of the nobles then joined in, and 
petitioned Arthur to “ give Gawayne the game.” 

So the King bade his young nephew rise and 
take the axe; and he blessed him, wishing him 
good luck, and telling him to keep steady both 
heart and hand. Then Sir Gawayne took the 
axe, and bodly faced his opponent. The Green 
Knight looked at him with interest, and asked 
his name, and whether he would abide by the 
agreement. 

“ In good faith,” replied the youth, I, Ga¬ 
wayne, will give you one stroke, and a twelve- 
month after, whatever shall happen, I will 
take another from you, with what weapon you 
please.” 


The Story of Sir Gawayne 265 

It gives me joy, Sir Gawayne,” said the 
Green Knight, ‘‘to think that I shall receive 
a blow from you, but you must swear to me that 
you will seek me to receive the blow in return.” 

“ Where shall I seek you } ” asked Sir Gawayne. 
“ Tell me your name and abode, and I will 
find you, by my sure faith.” 

“ When you have smitten me,” said the 
knight, “ then will I tell you my home and 
name; and if I do not speak at all, then so 
much the better for you. Take now your 
weapon, and let us see what sort of blow 
you can give.” 

“ Gladly, sir, forsooth,” quoth Sir Gawayne. 

The Green Knight forthwith put his long hair 
aside, and, stooping forward a little, showed his 
bare neck to the axe; and Sir Gawayne, with 
one mighty blow, cut his head right off, so that 
it fell to the ground and rolled among the 
feet of the guests. 

But the Green Knight neither faltered nor 
fell. Rushing amongst them, he picked it up, 
leaped into the saddle, and, turning round to 
them, held up the head, which opened its 
eyes, and addressing Sir Gawayne, said: “ Look 
you, be ready as you have promised, and seek 


266 Stories of Early England \ 

I 

me till you find me. Get you to the Green 
Chapel, there to receive a blow on New Year’s I 
morn. See that you fail not. Come, or be ! 
called recreant for ever.” 

Forthwith the knight rushed out of the hall, ^ 
still carrying his head in his hand. 

Then King Arthur laughed aloud with joy at 
such an adventure, and strove to cheer the J 
Queen, who was much dismayed at so strange a ! 
sight, saying: “ Dear lady, be not afraid ; such J 
marvels well become the Christmas' season. I 
Now may I go to meat with a glad heart, for I ' 
have seen a wondrous adventure.” Then he ; 
smiled at Sir Gawayne, and bade him hang ' 
up his axe and sit down to the table. And they ^ 
all feasted happily until the day was ended. ] 

II. THE JOURNEY OF SIR GAWAYNE 

As the year passed on, the strange adventure 
of the Green Knight was at first often discussed 
at the Court; but gradually it faded from 
remembrance, and became almost forgotton. 
Spring-time came, and the groves grew leafy, 
and the birds sang for joy of the summer at 
hand. Then the soft winds of summer blew 




The Story of Sir Gawayne 267 

over the sweet flowers wet with dewdrops. But 
soon came harvest-time and blew the dust 
about; the leaves dropped from the trees and 
the grass turned gray, and before they knew it 
winter had come again. 

Then began Sir Gawayne to think of his 
dread journey. On All Hallows E’en the King 
made a feast in honor of his nephew; but none 
were very gay, for all began to remember what 
was at hand. When the feast was over. Sir 
Gawayne knelt before the King, and said : 
“ Now, my lord, I ask leave of you to depart, for 
I am bound to-morrow to seek the Green 
Knight.” 

Then all the knights crowded round, with sor¬ 
row in their hearts, and began to give good coun¬ 
sel and comfort to the young knight. But he 
answered them bravely, and said : “ Why should 
I fear ? What should a man do but face his 
peril with a bold heart! ” 

So on the morrow he asked for his armor, and 
they prepared to put it on. A carpet was spread 
on the floor, on to which he stepped, and the work 
of fastening on the armor was begun. He was 
first arrayed in a silken vest, then steel shoes 
were fastened on his feet, and long steel gaiters 


268 Stories of Early England 

on his legs. These last were continued almost 
to the waist in what were known as “greaves.” 
Then came the steel breastplate, with well-bur¬ 
nished plates for the arms and elbows, and gloves 
of jointed steel for the hands. Over all this was 
placed the coat of richly ornamented metal, spurs 
were fastened on his heels, and his sword tied to 
his belt with a silken girdle. 

In this brave array the knight took leave of 
King Arthur and the Court, and mounted on 
Gringolet, his horse, whose harness glittered like 
the gleam of the sun. They handed him his 
helmet, which, after ancient custom, he kissed 
before putting on his head, and as he did so the 
diamonds set round it in a band sparkled like the 
stars in heaven. Then he lifted up the shield, 
on which was shown a curious device, called a 
“pentangle,” painted in bright gold. This pen- 
tangle was known as the “endless knot,” for no 
one could say where the figure began or ended; 
and its five angles or comers were to remind the 
knight that he must keep his five wits bright and 
clear. Then Sir Gawayne reached for his lance, 
and, bidding a last farewell, spurred up his horse, 
and rode on his way, leaving much sorrow behind 
him. 


The Story of Sir Gawayne 269 

It was a long and lonely road on which the 
knight now found himself. Mile after mile he 
travelled, and yet he met no man, and had no 
one to talk to but his horse. At last he reached 
the borders of North Wales, and entered a great 
wilderness of land called Wirral. There he 
found but few who loved either God or man, and 
none could give him tidings of the Green Knight 
or the Green Chapel. Many a steep hill and 
deep river did he pass on his lonely way; and 
nowhere did he find a friend, but often had to 
fight for his life with evil men, as well as with 
serpents, wolves, and boars. The weather, too, 
grew so bitterly cold that he hardly knew how to 
endure it. For the rain fell, and drenched him 
with water; and then came the frost and bitter 
wind, and froze him stiff, so that his head was 
hung round with icicles. He had little food and 
little rest, and there in peril he travelled on till 
Christmas Eve. When the dawn of the next day 
broke, Sir Gawayne found himself in a deep for¬ 
est full of very ancient oak-trees, on the branches 
of which sat a multitude of sad little birds piping 
piteously because of the intense cold. The 
knight by this time was very heavy at heart, for 
it seemed as though he would spend the happy 


270 Stories of Early England 

Christmas-tide out in the cold and wet among 
the shivering birds. Suddenly, however, he saw 
something gleam among the oak-trees, high up 
on a hill in the midst of the foresg and as he 
rode towards it, he saw that it was the gateway 
of a beautiful castle. He rode up the pathway 
as fast as he could, only to find the drawbridge 
raised from the moat and the gates shut fast. 

Standing on the farther bank Sir Gawayne 
gazed longingly at the fair building with its strong 
walls and gleaming round towers ; then, raising 
his voice in desperation, he gave a great shout. 
Immediately a porter appeared at the entrance, 
and asked his errand. 

Good sir,*’ said Gawayne, “ ask the high lord 
of this house to grant a weary traveller a lodg¬ 
ing.” 

“ You are welcome to dwell here as long as 
you like,” was the ready answer. The draw¬ 
bridge was let down, and the gate opened wide 
to receive him. 

The first thing that every good knight sees to 
is the stabling of his horse, and directly that 
Was done, Sir Gawayne gladly let himself be con¬ 
ducted to the great hall, where one man took his 
helmet and another his sword, and all pressed 


The Story of Sir Gawayne 271 

round him to do him some service. A huge fire 
burned gaily in the midst, and as they brought 
him towards it, the lord of the castle came run¬ 
ning from his own room, embraced him warmly, 
and bade him welcome. The knight returned his 
embrace, and then looked with interest at his 
host. He was a great, tall man, with a broad beard 
of the color of beaver, and his face was as red as 
fire, but he seemed full of kindness and hospitality. 
Calling a page to wait upon Sir Gawayne, he led 
his guest into a bedchamber decked with silken 
curtains and rich tapestry. There Gawayne took 
off his armor and put on fine robes, which be¬ 
came him so well that he looked the comeliest 
of knights. A chair was placed for him close to 
the fireside, and there, after he had washed, a de¬ 
licious meal was set before him, with all kinds 
of dainties and rich wines. 

When he had eaten they all began to ask him. 
questions, and when he told them that he came 
from Arthur’s Court there was great joy in the 
hall. For everyone had heard the fame of 
Arthur, and each began to say to the other: 
“ Now shall we see courteous manners and hear 
noble speech, for we have among us the flower 
of chivalry.” 


272 Stories of Early England 

Meantime there passed through the hall two 
ladies, one of whom was the life of the lord of 
the castle. Very fair was she, and a great con¬ 
trast to the other, who led her by the hand. 
For the latter was yellow and wrinkled, broad 
and awkward of figure, and evidently very ugly, 
though most of her face was hidden. Then Sir 
Gawayne, with knightly courtesy, bowed low 
before them, and, according to custom, begged 
leave to serve the fair mistress of the castle as 
her true servant. Thus, talking together, they 
sat by the fire, while wine and spices were served ; 
and much fun was made when the lord of the 
house took off his hood, and, hanging it on a 
spear, promised it to any one of his followers 
made the others laugh most. So night drew 
on, and Sir Gawayne, being very weary, retired 
to rest. 

The next day was the joyous feast of Christ¬ 
mas ; and for three days high revels were held 
within the castle walls, to which many guests 
were bidden. Everyone was kind to Gawayne, 
but most of all the lord of the castle and his fair 
lady. 

At length the guests began to depart, and Sir 
Gawayne’s heart grew heavy as he thought of 


The Story of Sir Gawayne 273 

leaving those hospitable walls. At the first 
mention of such a thing, however, his host 
assured him that he held it a great honor to 
entertain such a guest, and begged him to stay 
longer. Then, as Gawayne hesitated, the lord 
asked him kindly what noble deed had driven 
him from Arthur’s Court at Christmas-time; to 
which the knight replied that a high errand, and 
one that must soon be performed, had driven 
him forth to a certain place. “And I would,” 
he added, with a sigh, “ that I knew where to 
find it, for I would not for the world fail to be 
there on New Year’s morning. ’Tis the Green 
Chapel I seek, and a Green Knight who dwells 
there ; therefore, if you have heard of him, I pray 
you tell me where he is to be found, for the time 
grows very short, and I would sooner die than 
fail my errand.” 

At this his host gave a great laugh, and said : 
“ Do not trouble about the Green Chapel, for 
when the time comes I will show you the way. 
It is not more than two miles from the castle, 
so you may sleep here at your ease on New 
Year’s Eve, and yet keep your tryst on New 
Year’s morn.” 

Then Gawayne was very glad, and joyfully 

R 


274 Stories of Early England 

consented to wait a while at the castle until the 
appointed day arrived. One request only did 
his host make, and that was that, while he went 
hunting early next morning, Sir Gawayne would 
stay at home and amuse his wife. When the 
knight agreed, he made this further .stipulation, 
saying : “Whatever I win in the wood .shall be 
yours, if you will give to me whatever you win 
at home.” 

The bargain was made, and they went happily 
to rest. 

III. SIR GAWAYNE KEEPS HIS TRYST ‘ ' 

When Gawayne had gone to rest, the lord of 
the castle said to his lady : “ I have devised a 
plan to try the honor and good faith of this 
young knight. He is bound to keep tryst on 
New Year’s morn and to perform a hard task. 
Do "you now meet him to-morrow while I am 
hunting, and persuade him not to fulfil his agree¬ 
ment, giving him some token of your good will 
towards him that he may not guess your pur¬ 
pose. For he seems too gentle and yielding to 
be of knightly stuff, and whether he is true 
knight or not I wish to know; but if he holds 


The Story of Sir Gawayne 275 

out, and keeps his word, he may meet his death 
on New Year’s morn.” 

To this the lady willingly agreed, for she 
thought it a sad pity that so fair a youth should 
die so soon, and prepared to do all that her hus¬ 
band wished. 

Next morning, before daybreak, the bugles 
sounded amidst the barking of the hounds, and 
the lord of the castle mounted his horse, and 
rode off to the hunt. 

When it grew light. Sir Gawayne arose and 
sought the hall, where he was soon joined by the 
lovely lady of the house. She greeted him very 
kindly, saying that she felt it an honor to en¬ 
tertain so noble a knight; but Gawayne pro¬ 
tested that he was but her servant, and willing 
to serve her in all things. 

“If that is so,” said the lady, smiling upon 
him, “ you will do well to go no farther, but to 
stay here with us for a long, long while.” Then 
Sir Gawayne shook his head sadly, for he re¬ 
membered his promise. The lady pretended to 
be offended, saying that he did not really care 
to do her will. “ I do not believe you are Ga¬ 
wayne in truth,” said she, “for he would ere this 
have done what a lady asked him. But, since 


276 Stories of Early England 

you will not listen to me now, promise me to 
stay at home to-morrow morning and talk with 
me again, and meantime take this kerchief in 
token of my good will.” 

The rest of the day passed happily enough in 
talk and merriment, in which both the older and . 
the younger lady took their full share with the 
knight. And at length the hunters returned 
home. Sir Gawayne hurried out to meet his 
host, who greeted him courteously, and bade all 
the household to assemble in the hall. A great 
stag slain by his hand was then brought in and 
laid upon the floor, and, calling Gawayne, he 
asked if he had riot done a good day’s work. 

^ “ Indeed, yes,” said the knight. “ Here is 
finer venison than I have seen in winter-time for 
seven years past.” 

** I give it you all, Gawayne,” said his host, 
“according to the agreement we have made 
together.” 

“"And I,” replied Gawayne, giving him the 
silken kerchief, “ give to you, according to that 
sariie agreement, what I have gained whilst 
I remained at home.” 

“And where did you get thisasked his host. 

But Gawayne answered: “ Ask me no more. 



The Story of Sir Gawayne 277 

for we did not agree to explain things, but only 
to exchange what we each obtained.” 

The lord of the castle seemed quite satisfied, 
and they went happily together to supper. 

That night the same agreement was made, 
and at cockcrow the lord of the castle again set 
off a-hunting. Once again, when Sir Gawayne 
had risen, the lady approached him, and began 
to beg and pray him not to leave her on New 
Year’s Day. I will give you anything in 
.the world if you will promise me this,” said she. 

I must not promise that,” replied the stead¬ 
fast knight, though he longed to do something to 
please the beautiful dame. 

I would like to know,” then said she, why 
you, whd are so young and active, are ready 
to give up your life to this unknown enemy; 
you ought to be glad of the chance of escape. 
Why is it, pray, that you refuse me.? ” 

“ I am Arthur’s knight,” replied Gawayne, 
“ and your true servant while I may live.” 

Then the lady gave him a ring in token 
of good will, and said no more. 

Meantime the hunters were busy with a great 
boar, which, after killing three men and several 
dogs, had turned to bay in a hole in a rock 


278 Stories of Early England 

by the side of a brook. No one dared approach 
him except the master, who alighted from his 
horse, and sought to attack him with his sword. 
But the boar rushed upon him, with the foam 
dropping from his huge tusks, and it wasonly 
by great skill that he managed to put an end to 
the wild beast. Then with much noise of bugles 
and baying of dogs the boar’s head was placed 
upon a spear, and carried home before the 
lord of the castle. Sir Gawayne was quickly 
summoned to see the head and hear the descrip¬ 
tion of the huge boar, and was full of admiration. 

*‘Now, Gawayne,” cried the host, “all this 
spoil is yours according to our bond. What 
have you for me in return.?” 
t'^Then the knight gave him the ring which the 
lady had given him; at which the lord of the 
castle embraced him warmly, saying that he 
was the pleasantest guest he had ever enter¬ 
tained. 

That night Sir Gawayne begged his host 
to let him depart on the morrow, for he feared 
lest the persuasions of that fair lady should 
act against his honor. But the lord of the house 
assured him that he would reach the Green 
Chapel on New Year’s morn, and begged him to 


The Story of Sir Gawayne 279 

stay another night on the same agreement 
as before. 

Next morning the master was away very 
early after a fox; while Gawayne, waking in the 
clear, frosty light from a terrible dream of the 
Green Chapel, arose, and sought the hall. There, 
as he sat in heavy thought, that lovely lady 
came again to him, and besought him with 
many gentle words to lay his sadness aside, and 
give up all idea of keeping his tryst, bidding 
him enjoy his life, and be merry while he could, 
and to think no more of the Green Knight. Sir 
Gawayne was hard pressed, for his life was very 
dear to him ; but he dreaded lest he should 
become a traitor to his King and a recreant 
knight, and would not listen to her words. 
Then the lady wept for him, and gave him 
a green silk girdle, bidding him keep it in 
remembrance of her, and tell no one of the gift. 
This Gawayne was unwilling to do; but she 
insisted, saying: ** Whoever is girded with 
this girdle cannot be very sorely wounded or 
slain.” Then the knight thought of his coming 
adventure at the Green Chapel, and, though 
it went against his conscience, he agreed to keep 
the gift a secret. 


280 Stories of Early England 

That night the master brought home only the 
skin of a fox, which he gave to Gawayne, but 
received nothing in return. When bed-time 
came, Sir Gawayne bade his host farewell, and, 
thanking him for his happy visit, asked that he 
would send a man with him to show him the way 
to the Green Chapel in the morning. A servant 
was given him for that purpose, and, after taking a 
sorrowful leave of the ladies. Sir Gawayne retired 
to bed. Little did he sleep, however, for he had 
much to think about, and all too soon the mor¬ 
row came. 

New Year’s morn was dark and stormy, and 
the dales were full of snowdrifts as Sir Gawayne 
rode forth. He had put on his armor, though 
it was covered with rust, and round his waist 
he wrapped the lady’s gift. The gates were 
opened, and the knight passed out, accompanied 
only by his guide, into the dark of the early 
morning. After riding for some way the servant 
stopped, saying: “ You are now close by the 

Green Chapel, and a perilous place you will find 
it. The lord of that place is stiff and stern- 
bigger than any four in Arthur’s house—and 
none passes by the Green Chapel whom he does 
not beat to death with blows from his fist. It 


The Story of Sir Gawayne 281 

matters not whether it be churl or monk or any 
man else— he kills them all. Wherefore, good 
Sir Gawayne, have naught to do with this man, 
for no one can fight against him. Escape by 
some other way, and I swear to you most sol¬ 
emnly I will never say that you attempted to fly 
from any man.” 

But Gawayne replied that to flee would mark 
him as a coward knight, and therefore to the 
chapel he must go, whatever should happen to 
him there. 

“ Well,” said the other, “ If it please you to 
lose your life, put your helmet on your head 
and your sword in your hand, and ride down the 
narrow path by yonder rock. When you come 
to the bottom of the valley look a little to the 
left, and you will see the chapel and the man 
who guards it.” • < ^ 

Then the servant took leave of him, and left 
Sir Gawayne alone. At first the knight’s heart 
sank within him, but he pulled himself together 
saying : “ Now will I neither weep nor groan. 

I am ready and willing to do God’s will and keep 
my word.” 

Then he rode down the hill into the dale, and, 
looking about him, saw at first only steep, high 



282 Stories of Early England 

banks. At last he saw a little hill, and, alight^ 
ing from his horse, began to walk round about it. 
Presently he came to an old cave in the hill, and 
said to himself : “ If this is the Green Chapel 

’tis a strange place enough.” Then, as he 
roamed about, he heard a loud noise from within, 
which sounded like the clattering of an axe upon 
a millstone. “ No noise .shall frighten me,” said 
the knight boldly, and shouted aloud : “ Who 

dwells here to hold discourse with me ” 

P'rom within a deep voice answered, bidding 
him stay where he was, and a little later there 
suddenly appeared from the mouth of the dark 
cavern the terrible figure of the Green Knight, 
just as he had looked when he first entered 
Arthur’s Court holding in his hand a brand-new 
axe. He met Gawayne without any greeting; 
but the latter bowed courteously to him, and 
bade him note that he had kept his appointment 
to the very day. 

“ Good preserve you,” said the Green Knight; 
“ you have timed your journey like a true man. 
You know our agreement, that on New Year’s 
Day I should return you your blow. Now are 
we here alone ; have off your helmet, therefore, 
and take your pay at once.” 


The Story of Sir Gawayne 283 

“ I will not grudge you your stroke,” said the 
brave knight ; and forthwith, with undaunted 
countenance, he took off his helmet, and bared 
his neck, leaning forward for the blow. Then 
the man in green seized his grim weapon, and, 
raising it aloft, brought it down with all his force ; 
but before it could touch him Sir Gawayne 
shrank* a little with his shoulders. 

The other held back the axe, and reproved 
him, saying : Surely you are not that Gawayne 
of whom men think so highly, for you flinch be¬ 
fore you are touched. I never shrank when you 
struck me, therefore surely I should be called 
the better man.” 

I flinched once,” said. Sir Gawayne, much 
ashamed^ but I will do so no more ; only give 
me my stroke at once, for ’tis hard to wait.” 

Have at thee, then,” said the Green Knight; 
and with that he aimed another great blow, 
but stayed it again as he saw Gawayne stand 
still as a stone. 

‘‘Now I perceive,” said the knight, “ that your 
heart is brave and unspoilt; yet must I hit thee 
this time.” 

“ Strike on,” said Gawayne; you threaten 
too long.” 


284 Stories of Early England 

Then the Green Knight raised aloft the axe, 
and brought it down on Gawayne’s neck so that 
the sharp edge just cut the skin, and a few 
drops of blood fell on to the snow. When the 
young knight saw them, he unsheathed his sword, 
joyfully saying : “ You have had your blow, and 
now, if you give more, I shall readily requite 
you. Our agreement was only for one stroke. 
Come now, and fight if you will.” 

But the Green Knight rested on his axe, and, 
looking kindly on the young man, said : “ Bold 
knight, be not so wroth. I promised you one 
stroke, and, now you have it, be satisfied. I 
could have dealt thee one far worse, but I would 
not. With one blow I threatened you for the 
covenant made between us that first night; an¬ 
other I gave you because you failed once, being 
tempted thrice. A true man should restore 
truly, and then he need fear no harm. I know 
that you are wearing my wife's girdle. I sent 
her to try you, and faultless you were found. 
Yet you sinned a little by keeping that gift se¬ 
cret from me, and for that I gave you that tap 
with my axe.” 

Sir Gawayne stood confounded at these words, 
as he recognized his host under the appearance 


The Story of Sir Gawayne 285 

of the Green Knight. Then : Cursed be cow¬ 
ardice and want of truth,” he cried ; and, un¬ 
fastening the girdle, he threw it to the knight, 
confessing himself to have been guilty of untruth 
and want of faith. 

Then the other said, laughing: “ You have 
so bravely confessed your sin that I hold you as 
clean as if you had never done wrong. I give 
you, therefore, this gold-hemmed girdle to wear 
as a token of your adventure at the Green 
Chapel. And now, dear Gawayne, come again 
to my house, and stay there as long as you 
will.” 

“Nay indeed,” said Gawayne; “too long 
have I lingered there already. But bliss be¬ 
tide you for your goodness to me ; and as for 
the girdle, it has made me break my troth, I will 
wear it in remembrance of my fault. So now, 
when pride shall prick me, a look at this ribbon 
will bring me low. Now, I pray you, tell 
me your right name, and I will be gone.” 

“ I am called Bernlak of the High Desert,” 
replied the Green Knight. “ I was in old days a 
pupil of Morgan le Fay, who taught me how to 
wear this disguise, that I might test the renown of 
the Round Table. She is the elder lady of my 


286 Stories of Early England 

race; therefore return with me, and make merry 
in my house.” ^ 

But Gawayne refused to go with the Green 
Knight, and, bidding him an affectionate farewell, 
he rode away to Arthur’s Court. 

Wild ways he rode until at last he reached 
the Court, where all were overjoyed to see him 
return. The King and the knights asked him 
eagerly what had befallen him, and Sir Gawayne 
told all his adventures and the tale of the green 
girdle. He showed also the cut on his neck, 
and groaned for grief and shame, and hid his face 
in his hands as he cried : Lo ! this is the band 
of blame—a token of my cowardice and want of 
truth. I must needs wear it as long as I live.” 

But the King and his Court comforted him, 
and all the knights of the Round Table agreed 
to wear a bright green belt for Gawayne’s sake, 
so that he might no longer be ashamed. And 
Sir Gawayne had honor among the knights 
because he had kept his word, and had sought 
out the Green Knight at the time appointed. 

Between 1350-1400, 


THE HAPPY LAND 


T his is a poem translated from old Eng¬ 
lish, but still keeping the arrangement 
of words known as ** alliteration.” This 
means that, while every long line is broken into 
two short ones, one word at least in the second 
short line, or one of its syllables, begins with the 
same consonant letter as a word in the first 
short line. 

This was always used in Old English poetry 
in place of rhyme. ^ 

** P'ar away from hence, I have heard it told— 

Of all lands the noblest is, in the Eastern 
parts; 

Know to folk by fame; yet that fold of earth 
Unto few of the folk-owners faring over 
Midgard, 

Easy of access is ; but is far withdrawn 
From the men who mischief make by the 
might of God ! 

287 


288 Stories of Early England 

All the land is lovely; with delights made 
happy, 

With the very sweetest of the scents of 
earth. 

To its blest indwellers oft the door of heaven 

There is clear disclosed, clear the joy of 
hymns! 

?nidga?'d: 'wot'ld. 

Winsome is the wold there; there the 
wealds are green. 

Spacious spread below the skies; there 
may neither snow nor rain, 

Nor the furious air of frost, nor the flare 
of fire. 

Nor the headlong squall of hail, nor the 
hoar-frost’s fall. 

Nor the burning of the sun, nor the bitter cold. 

Nor the weather over-warm, nor the winter 
shower. 

Do their wrong to any wight— but the 

wold abides 

Ever happy, healthful there. Honored is 
that land. 

All ablown with blossoms. Not abrupt the 
mountains : 


The Happy Land , 289 

Steep the hills stand not> and the stony 
cliffs 

Are not high iipheaved, such as here with 
us they are: 

Nought there is of dells and dales, nor 
of deep rock-gorges 

Heights or hillocks rough ; nor hangs over 
there 

Any unsmooth thing, but the noble land 

’Neath the welkin waxes >with its winsome 
joys ablown. 

Never vapors full of wind, .nor rain-water 
falleth. 

Lashed the air about— but the liquid 
streamlets. 

Wonderfully beautiful, from thejr wells up 
springing. 

Softly lap the land with their lovely floods. 

Winsome are the waters from the wood¬ 
lands’ middle 

Which, at every moon, . through .the mossy 
turf of earth. 

Surge up cold as sea-foam jn-v seek their path 
around the trees 

Gloriously from time to time. , - 


s 


290 


Stories of Early England 

wold: piain^ meadow. weald: wood. 

There with gladsome growths all the groves 

' are hung, 

I With the wildwood blossoms. Never wither 
there, 

Never there the fallow foliage falls upon 
the earth. 

Fairness it of forest trees; full of beauty 

' are 

Evermore the branches, bent adown upon 
the trees, 

I With a fruitage always fresh, fadeless day 
by day ! 

Never change is there 

I In the beauty of the holt; there its holy 
fragrance 

Wons above the winsome land ; nor is wan¬ 
ing known 

I Ever through the ages, till the end He 
brings 

To the ancient work of old who erst its 
making had.” 

Fallow : yellow., russet. wons : lives., abides. 

From the “ Phoenix Poem^ probably by Cynewulf. 

750-790 A. D. 


SIR BEVIS OF HAMPTON 

I. THE EARLY ADVENTURES OF SIR BEVIS 

S IR GUY, the great Earl of Southampton 
had a little son called Bevis. When the 
boy was seven years old, a series of ter¬ 
rible misfortunes fell upon him. One of the 
Earl’s knights, named Sir Murdour, who had 
long wished to rule in Sir Guy’s place, killed his 
master in a forest one day, and married his wife 
—a wicked woman—who had never loved her 
first husband or her little boy. Fearing, how¬ 
ever, that when Bevis grew older he would claim 
the earldom, they ordered the boy’s uncle. Sir 
Saber, to throw him into the sea. Saber was too 
much afraid of them to refuse, but, hoping to 
save his nephew, he sold him to some Saracen 
traders who happened to be on shore, and by 
them the boy was carried off to the land of Ar¬ 
menia. The King of Armenia at that time was 
called Ermine, and he was so much struck with 
the handsome face and strong limbs of the little 

191 


292 Stories of Early England 

slave that he gladly received him as a present. 
He was soon in high favor at the Court, both 
with the King, and his little daughter Josian, the 
fairest child upon earth. So fond did Ermine 
become of the boy that he offered to make him 
his heir, and give him Josian for his wife, when 
he was old enough to marry, if he would give 
up his Christian faith and become as one of them. 
But this Bevis ^refused to do. The King then 
made hirh his chamberlain, and promised that 
when he was old enough he should bear his ban^ 
ner to the battlefield. 

At this Court Bevis soon began to win re¬ 
nown. In the forest near by lived a fierce wild 
boar of immense size, whose tusks all men 
dreaded, and when Bevis was about fourteen he 
determined to try his strength against the beast. 
The foresters all tried to prevent him, for they 
thought he was going to certain death. They 
told him that the boar would not eat beech nuts 
or acorns, but only human flesh t^but he would 
not hear them. Rising very early one morning 
he saddle his horse; and rode off to the forest, 
watched with admiration by Josian from her 
window. ’ Arrived at the forest he tied up his 
horse; and began to blow his horn. The boar. 


293 


Sir Bevis of Hampton 

however, took no notice, and Bevis began to hunt 
about until he came to a place which was thickly 
covered with dead men’s bones. Rightly guess¬ 
ing that he had come to the very mouth of the 
den, Bevis shouted out his challenge: Rise, 
thou foul beast, and have battle against me ! ” 
whereupon the boar came out, with all its bristles 
up, and its mouth open wide enough to swallow 
the boy at one gulp. 

I have got my work before me,” quoth the 

lad. 

The hunting spear which he carried was par- 
• ticularly strong, but it snapped into seven parts 
■ at the first blow, and though his sword stood 
firm, he soon found that it made no more im¬ 
pression on the animal than it did upon a stone. 
Hours passed, and, while the boy was nearly 
dead with fatigue, the boar became blind with 
fury and faint from exhaustion; A length it 
made a sudden dash for the open plain, and, as 
Bevis followed, turned upon him, open-mouthed. 
Immediately our hero thrust his sword down its 
throat, and killed it. Then, having cut off the 
grisly head, he stuck it on his broken spear, and 
turned towards home. But the foresters, who 
had never dared to face the forest in bands of 


294 Stories of Early England 

less than twelve at a time, were filed with envy 
when they saw his return, and determined to slay 
him, and claim the prize for themselves. They 
met him just as he came within sight of Josian 
at her window. All twelve attacked him at once; 
but Bevis used his broken spear head—for he 
had left his sword behind—to such good effect 
that nine were left dead on the ground. The 
rest fled for their lives leaving him to return in 
triumph to present the boar’s head to the admir¬ 
ing King. 

About that time a neighboring king, named 
Bradmond, demanded that Josian should be sent 
to him for his wife; and on the Kirig’s refusal hfe 
threatened to come and take his kingdom from 
him. An army was, therefore, prepared against 
him, and of this army Josian persuaded her father 
to make Bevis the commander. But first he was 
made a knight, and fair Josian, his lady-love, 
dressed him in his armor, and gave him a fine 
charger, called by the name of Arundel. Thus 
prepared, he rode forth to meet in single combat 
King Bradmond’s giant standard-bearer, who 
laughed in scorn at the idea of fighting a mere 
boy such as Bevis. But Sir Bevis not only 
killed the giant, but also took King Bradmond 


Sir Bevis of Hampton 293 

prisoner, and only released him on condition that 
he became the vassal of his master. Then was 
Josian so proud of her knight that she gave up 
her heathen faith, and became a Christian for 
his sake^ and they were betrothed in secret to 
each other. Now, it happened that two of the 
knights whom Bevis had captured overheard 
their talk> and hurried to tell the King that his 
daughter had forsaken her faith. On hearing 
this. Ermine was very wroth) and, not daring to 
kill Sir Bevis openly, sent him off to the Court 
of Bradmond with a sealed letter, which com 
tained the request that Bradmond would have 
the messenger put to death. Moreover, he 
would not let Sir Bevis ride upon Arundel, nor 
take his famous sword with him^ but pointed out 
that, as he was going on a peaceful errand, a 
gentle steed and an ordinary weapon would be 
more suitable. 

After a wearisome journey the young knight 
arrived at Bradmond’s city, and scarcely had he 
entered, when he was attacked by some Sara¬ 
cens for not doing£;honor to an idol they were 
worshipping. Although Bevis had but a com¬ 
mon sword he slew two hundred of these men; 
while the rest fled; to the palace to tell the King 


296 Stories of Early England 

of the slaughter. Meantime Sir Bevis entered 
quite unmoved, and handed the King his letter. 
When he had read it, Bradmond was full of joy, 
and began to upbraid Bevis with the deeds of 
valor he had done, and told him he should 
shortly be slain like a dog. In vain Bevis 
begged to be allowed to die fighting, even against 
sixty thousand men. He made one desperate 
struggle for liberty, and, being overpowered, was 
bound with new ropes, and set up in the hall to 
be mocked. They gave him food and drink, 
taunting him with the news that this was to be 
his last meal, and then took him to a dungeon, 
so strong that it seemed unnecessary to bind 
him, and, chaining him to the wall, they left him 
there. Searching about this dismal cell, as far 
as his chain would allow, Bevis presently found 
a short, thick piece of wood—which he took for 
a weapon—and a stream of water, whieh ran 
Through the place. 

Before he had been there very long, two 
dragons crawled from a hole in the wall, intend¬ 
ing to make a meal of the knight, but he turned 
on them with such courage, that after a long, 
fierce fight, he managed to kill them both. 
Here in this grim place Sir Bevis remained 


297 


Sir Bevis of Hampton 

for seven years, during which time he was given 
nothing to eat but a mess of bran once a day, 
and all he had for meat were the rats and mice 
and such small deer” that he managed to catch 
in his cell. 

Meantime the fair Josian, much against her 
will, had been forced to marry another, by name 
King Joure. To this King, wishing to do him 
honor. Ermine presented Arundel and Morglay— 
the horse and the famous sword of Sir Bevis. 
Much struck with the beauty of the horse. King 
Joure jumped on his back, and attempted to ride 
him into the city; but directly Arundel knew 
that it was not his own master who bestrode 
him, he leaped over hedges and ditches, briers 
and cornfields, until he succeeded in throwing 
the unlucky King, so that he fell on his head, 
and died. The horse would have been starved 
by the grooms in the stable for his conduct, 
but Josian ordered that he was to be well fed, 
and the ropes with which he was bound removed. 
And as Josian was now Queen of Mambraunt 
they were forced to obey her.^ ^ 

At last, after seven years’ imprisonment. Sir 
Bevis had grown so weak; that.phis gaolers 
determined to kill him, in order to save them- 


298 Stories of Early England 

selves any further trouble. So one let himself 
down by a cord into the dungeon, and was about 
to strike him dead, when Sir Bevis, with a sudden 
return of his old strength, killed him with his 
fist. He then imitated the voice of the dead 
man, and so caused the second gaoler to descend, 
and on his appearance he killed him with the sword 
of the first. But he was now no better off, for 
he was quite without food and bound fast to the 
rock by a chain. On the third day, however, 
when he was nearly starving, he found his chain 
had become quite loose, and, freeing himself with 
ease, he climbed up the rope, and found himself 
close to the doors of the royal stable. 

Within, the grooms were dressing the King’s 
horses, with talk and laughter. What was their 
astonishment when the door was burst open, and 
ah extraordinary-looking man, with a face deadly 
white, and long hair which trailed upon the 
ground, rushed in upon them! Those who did 
not escape were knocked down; after which 
Bevis armed himself at his leisure, and, saddling 
the best horse in the stable, galloped to the 
palace gates. He there woke the porter, telling 
him that Bevis of Hampton had escaped, and 
that he was in search of him. The sleepy 


Sir Bevis of Hampton 299 

fellow let clown the drawbridge with all haste, and 
the knight rode off rejoicing in his freedom. 

Meanwhile the porter, going his rounds, dis¬ 
covered the dead gaolers and the empty cell, 
and at once realized what had really happened. 
He rushed to report the loss to King Bradmond, 
who promptly sent for one of his knights, who 
possessed a marvellous horse called Truncefyce, 
and ordered him to pursue and kill Sir Bevis. 
This Truncefyce could gallop faster than the 
wirid, and was said to be worth his weight 
in gold. It was not long, therefore, before the 
knight came up with Sir Bevis, and at once 
challenged him to single conflict. He thought 
he would have an easy task, but though Bevis 
was weak from want of food he quickly put 
an end to his assailant, and threw himself across 
the saddle of the good horse Truncefyce. By 
this time the whole host of King Bradmond 
was close upon him, and so he had to ride with 
all his might. Unluckily, he lost his way, 
and came to the seashore, and while vainly 
trying to find a road in another direction the 
army once more came up with him. Determin¬ 
ing to be drowned rather than be taken again 
Sir Bevis put spurs to his horse, and galloped 


300 Stories of Early England 

towards the water, when Truncefyce at once 
took a leap of forty feet, and then carried 
him safely to the opposite shore. By this time, 
however, Bevis was so weak from want of 
food that he fell from the saddle, saying sadly : 
** If I were King of all Armenia I would gladly 
give my kingdom for a slice of brown bread.” 
At length he dragged himself up again, and rode 
on till he reached a castle, where he begged 
for food. The lady of the house implored him 
to go away, saying that her husband was a 
giant, and would kill any Christian he could 
catch. 

But Sir Bevis would not stir till he had had a 
meal. So the lady went to tell her husband, 
who came out to look at him. Now, this giant 
was the brother of the knight whom Bevis 
had just killed, and, recognizing Truncefyce, 
he asked him gruffly where he had stolen the 
horse. When Bevis answered with spirit, the 
giant aimed a blow at him that would have 
put an end to any ordinary man. This Sir Bevis 
avoided, but it alighted, unfortunately, on the 
good Truncefyce, and killed him on the spot. 

Then Sir Bevis leaped to the ground, and with 
one stroke cut off the giant’s head ; after which 


Sir Bevis of Hampton 301 

he entered the castle, and ate a very hearty 
meal. 

Sir Bevis was now comparatively at his ease; 
the only thing that troubled him was the fate of 
his beloved Josian. It so happened that he met an 
old comrade as he rode on his way, who told him 
all that had happened, and how, though Josian 
had been forced to marry King Joure, she 
was now living as a widow in that land. The 
knight at once decided to return to her, and see 
if she still loved him, and, having dressed him¬ 
self as a pilgrim, joined a band of beggars 
and travellers who were waiting at the gate 
for alms. Finding he must wait some time, 
he began to wander round the castle, and 
presently, from a turret room, he heard the 
voice of Josian mourning for her lost Bevis. 
Returning to the gates he waited till she 
appeared, and was at once singled out as a 
stranger by the lady, who asked eagerly if he 
had heard any news of Bevis of Hampton. He 
said Yes ; he had often talked with him, especially 
of his horse Arundel, whom he would much like 
to see. d'he Queen at once led the supposed 
pilgrim to the stables, where he went up to 
the stall, and spoke to the horse. No sooner 


302 Stories of Early England 

had Arundel heard the voice of his beloved 
master than he broke seven chains by which he 
was bound, and ran out of the stall. 

The lady was much alarmed lest the animal 
should escape, and terrify the whole town ; but 
Bevis only laughed at her fears, and, approaching ; 
his steed, jumped upon his back, and, throwing 
off his pilgrim’s cloak, showed himself to be her . 
long-lost knight. Then Josian entreated him to ' 
take her away from that hated castle, for while ^ 
she was there she was in the power of Sir Grassy, 1 
the late King’s governor, who had been left j 
ruler of his dominions. So they escaped together ! 
from the castle, and began a perilous journey | 
back to England. < 

II. SIR BEVIS WINS HIS OWN ESTATE I 

Sir Bevis of Hampton, with Josian, his be¬ 
trothed wife, had not ridden far on their way 
towards England, when they met a most terrible 
giant. He was full thirty feet high, and covered 
with bristles like a pig ; his great mouth was , 
jvide open, and his eyes were hollow and very! 
far apart. He was loathly to look upon, and in 
his hand he carried a young oak-tree for a staff, i 


303 


Sir Be vis of Hampton 

Sir Bevis stared at him in great amazement, and 
asked if all men in his country were as mighty in 
size, and what was his name. 

My name,” answered the giant, “ is Ascapard. 
I am sent hither by Sir Grassy, the late King’s 
steward, to bring you back again to the castle.” 

This was not to be borne, so they prepared to 
fight; and in the ensuing battle Sir Bevis proved 
himself so active that he was able to conquer the 
giant, and was about to put him to death. But 
Josian had pity on the great creature, and be¬ 
sought that his life should be spared. To this 
Sir Bevis at length agreed, and Ascapard, in his 
gratitude, became his servant from that time. 

After this interlude they proceeded to the sea¬ 
shore—Bevis and Josian riding on Arundel, and 
Ascapard afoot. A merchant ship lay at anchor 
in the bay ; but it was occupied by some Sara¬ 
cens, who refused to receive Sir Bevis and his 
companions on board. Directly the giant realized 
this, he promptly cleared the vessel of its owners, 
most of whom he dropped into the sea, and tak¬ 
ing up Arundel, with Bevis and Josian under his 
arm, he embarked with them, and arrived, after 
a prosperous journey, at Cologne. When they 
reached this city, they heard much talk of a fiery 


304 Stories of Early England 

dragon which infested the neighborhood—a 
creature of immense size and terrible ferocity. 
Hearing the groans of a knight who had been 
touched by the poison breathed from his mouth, 
Sir Bevis determined to attack the dragon, al¬ 
though everyone assured him that St. Michael 
himself could not withstand the onset of such 
a monster. 

So he set off, accompanied at first by As- 
capard; but the latter, directly he heard the 
roar of the dragon in the distance, fled away, 
declaring that for all the realms of heathendom 
he would not stay to look upon the throat from 
which such a voice proceeded. Sir Bevis, there- 
fore, was left alone, and, paying no heed to the * 
monster’s hideous yell, proceeded to attack himf 
with his good sword Morglay. 

The first lash of the dragon’s tail broke one 
of his ribs, and knocked him down, while his 
sword availed nothing against the creature’s scaly 
armor; but he returned again and again to the. 
attack until, running backward to avoid the drag-j 
on’s poisonous breath, he fell headlong into a well f 
of water. Luckily for him, this was an enchanted 
well, the water of which at once healed his ( 
wounds and refreshed him for the renewed con-5 


305 


• Sir Bevis of Hampton 

flict. At length, however, the dragon spouted on 
him such a quantity of venom that he fell sense¬ 
less to the ground; whereupon the ’ creature 
began to lash him with his tail, until by good for¬ 
tune he lashed him a second time into the en¬ 
chanted well. Once more he emerged fresh and 
strong, which sight so disheartened the wearied 
monster that he began to retreat. Following 
him up, Bevis succeeded in cutting off about five 
feet of his wicked tail, and shortly after was able 
to cut off his head, which he brought back in 
triumph to Cologne. 

Then meu of Cologne were so delighted at 
this deliverance from the monster, that they 
were ready to give Bevis anything in the world 
he wished. 

So, after some thought, he asked for a hun¬ 
dred knights to fight for him, and with this little 
band he determined to go to Southampton and 
win back the estates of his father, so long en¬ 
joyed by his wicked stepfather Sir Murdour. 
He sailed, therefore, to a port close by Southamp¬ 
ton, and after visiting his uncle. Sir Saber; in the 
Isle of Wight, he left Josian and Ascapard in his 
charge, and proceeded towards that town, send¬ 
ing a messenger on ahead to tell Sir Murdour 


T 


306 Stories of Early England 

that a knight of Brittany had just arrived, with 
a hundred companions, in quest of service, which 
they offered to him in the first instance, but 
should, if he refused, transfer the offer to his 
enemies. 

Sir Murdour was delighted to accept this un¬ 
expected offer, and, little knowing who Sir Bevis 
really was, he received him with great ceremony, 
and paid him the most marked attentions. Pres¬ 
ently the unknown knight began to ask questions 
as to the former owner of the castle ; whereupon 
Sir Murdour informed him that Sir Guy, the last 
owner, was a man of low birth, and that his son. 
Sir Bevis, had turned out such a spendthrift that 
he had been obliged at length to sell his heritage, 
and leave England, for very shame of his debts. 
Sir Saber, he continued, had for some time past 
tried to wrest from Sir Murdour the land he had 
legally purchased from his stepson, and this was 
the quarrel in which he would be glad to use the 
services of his noble guests. 

Sir Bevis could scarcely listen to this false in¬ 
formation with patience; but he controlled his 
wrath, and answered calmly : “ Since this is 

your quarrel, it might have been easily settled by 
myself and my companions, had we been able to 


307 


Sir Bevis of Hampton 

come properly equipped for a battle or a siege. 
Indeed, as it is, if you will lend us arms and 
horses, and a ship for our conveyance, we will 
promise to set off this very night, and not lose 
sight of Sir Saber till your quarrel be settled 
one way or the other.” 

Sir Murdour was only too glad to agree, and 
Bevis returned to the Isle of Wight with the 
finest horses and choicest armor in his enemy’s 
possession. Having openly joined Saber, he sent 
a second messenger to Southampton, ordering 
him to tell Sir Murdour that he who made the 
agreement with him was no stranger knight, but 
Bevis of Hampton himself, come to avenge his 
own and his father’s wrongs. 

When this was reported to Sir Murdour, the 
latter snatched up a knife from the supper-table, 
and threw it at the messenger, but, missing him, 
it struck through the heart of his own son. Thus 
fell the hand of vengeance on him for all his 
wicked deeds. 

Shortly after a great battle was fought between 
the two parties, and soon Sir Murdour and Sir 
Bevis met face to face. The younger knight had 
succeeded in knocking his enemy from his horse; 
but at that moment he was surrounded by his 


308 Stories of Early England 

foes, so that he could not make him captive. He 
called loudly, therefore, on Ascapard, promising 
to give him his freedom if he would take Sir 
Murdour prisoner. Striding to the spot, the 
giant killed both the horse and the wicked knight 
himself, as he was in the act of remounting ; and 
so the battle was won. 

The countess, when she heard of her hus¬ 
band’s death, threw herself from the top of a 
lofty tower, and was killed on the spot; and so 
there was nothing to hinder Sir Bevis and Josian 
from taking possession of the castle and lands 
that were his rightful heritage. There they 
lived happily for many a long day ; and it is said 
that Bevis, his wife, and the good horse Arundel, 
all died exactly at the same moment and were ! 
buried in the same spot. 

Probably fourteenth century. 


3 . - 



THE STORY OF SIR ISUMBRAS 


I. THE SEVEN MISFORTUNES OF SIR ISUMBRAS 

O NCE upon a time there lived a knight 
called Sir Isumbras, who had every¬ 
thing he wished for in the world. He 
was very strong and handsome; he possessed 
a fine castle and plenty of money ; he was re¬ 
nowned for his courage, courtesy, and skill at 
the tournament ; and, finally, he was happy in 
the love of a beautiful wife and three lovely 
children. 

Sir Isumbras was a brave and honorable 
knight, but he had one great fault. His good 
fortune made him very proud and haughty ; and 
in his heart he forgot whence all these blessings 
came, and looked upon them as the just re¬ 
ward for his own merit. So he had to learn a 
very severe lesson. It was the custom of the 
knight to go hunting every day, and on one spe¬ 
cial occasion he rode forth as usual, very early 
in the morning, with a hawk perched on his wrist 

309 


310 Stories of Early England 

and his dogs leaping round him. All at once 
the sky became overcast, and, looking up to see 
the cause. Sir Isumbras saw an angel hovering 
overhead on outspread wings. Dismounting from 
his horse, he stood trembling before the mighty 
presence, as in solemn words the angel re¬ 
proached him for his pride, and announced that 
from that instant all his good fortune should 
end, and his pride be brought low. Full of un¬ 
easiness and grief Sir Isumbras prepared to ride 
home again ; but scarcely had the angel disap¬ 
peared, when his horse suddenly fell dead un¬ 
der him, his hawk dropped lifeless from his wrist, 
and his dogs lay gasping out their last breaths 
all round him. He hastened towards his castle, 
and soon saw a number of his servants coming 
to meet him. With many tears they told him 
that all his horses and cows had been suddenly 
struck dead by lightning, and his cocks and 
hens and geese stung to death by a plague of 
adders. 

The knight bore the news with great resigna¬ 
tion, and bade the men not to murmur against 
Providence, and hurried on. But before he had 
gone far, his little page ran to meet him, telling 
him that in his absence his castle had been 


The Story of Sir Isumbras 311 

burnt to the ground, that many of his servants 
had perished, and that only with great difficulty 
had his wife and children been rescued from the 
flames. In his joy that those he loved most 
dearly had been preserved Sir Isumbras gave 
the boy a purse of gold, and, without a word of 
complaint, went to find them. A doleful sight 
was soon before his eyes. His wife and chil¬ 
dren, with scarcely a rag upon them, sat shivering 
under a thorn-tree, just as they had been carried 
from their beds. He stood aghast at this ; but 
his wife cheered him with brave words, saying : 
“ Fear nothing ; we are all safe.” 

Then Sir Isumbras threw off his cloak, and 
put it over his wife, and, stripping himself of his 
scarlet mantle, tore it in three pieces, wherewith 
to clothe his children. After this he explained 
to his wife the reason for all this misery, and 
proposed that, in order to atone for his sins of 
pride, they should all four make a pilgrimage to 
the Holy Land, and visit Jerusalem. So he and 
his wife set off, with the three little boys, resolv¬ 
ing to beg their bread on the way. 

Seven lands they passed through on the long 
and difficult journey, and at length reached a 
great forest, through with they wandered for 


312 Stories of Early England 

three days without seeing a house of any kind. 
They had nothing to eat but the few berries 
growing on the bushes, and at last the poor 
children, worn out with hunger, began to lag be¬ 
hind and cry for misery. As they went slowly 
forward, carrying the boys in turn, they found a 
wide, though shallow, river flowing swiftly right 
across their path. Taking his eldest son in his 
arms. Sir Isumbras carried him across the water, 
and, putting him down by a bush of broom, bade 
him dry his tears, and play with the flowers till 
his brother should come to keep him company. 
Scarcely, however, had the knight departed 
across the river, when a lion leaped out of a 
thicket close by, seized the child, and carried 
him away into the forest. When Sir Isumbras 
returned with the second boy, he thought the 
elder must have wandered some little way off, 
and, leaving the child with orders not to stir, 
he hurried back to fetch his wife and the young¬ 
est child. But directly he had gone, a huge 
leopard ran up, and, taking the boy in his mouth, 
carried him off in the same manner. 

When the poor mother and father reached 
■the spot, and could find no trace of their two 
children, they were full of grief; and it was long 



The Story of Sir Isumbras 313 

before Sir Isumbras could comfort his wife and 
persuade her to continue the sorrowful journey. 
Three days more the travelled through that 
forest, and at length they came to the seashore. 
-Down they sat and wept, for how were they to 
get across the sea to the Holy Land.? As they 
sat weeping, however, they saw a fleet come sail¬ 
ing in, three hundred ships and more, richly de¬ 
corated with flags and banners. In this fleet 
was a heathen king, called the ^‘Soudan,” who 
came to conquer Christendom. 

Seven days had now passed since the weary 
pilgrims had tasted bread or meat, so directly the 
Soudan’s galley was moored on the beach, they 
hastened on board to beg for food. Thinking 
they were spies, the Soudan ordered them to 
be driven ashore, but his attendants drew his at¬ 
tention to the fact that so tall and well-madena 
man must be a knight in disguise, and that 
though the wife was in rags, her face was “ bright 
as blossom on tree.” 

The Soudan immediately sent for them, and 
offered Sir Isumbras as much treasure as he 
liked to ask for, if he would give up his belief Jn 
the Christian faith and fight for a heathen master. 
This the knight at once refused, saying that all 


314 Stories of Early England 

he asked was a little food. But the Soudan, 
struck with the beauty of the lady, paid no heed 
to his request, but said : “ Man, I will give you 
a great sum in gold, and seven rich robes, if you 
will sell me this woman. I will make her Queen 
of my land, and all men shall bow down to her.’' 

No, indeed,” answered Sir Isumbras ; “ I 
will not sell my dear wife, though you slay me 
for it.” 

The Soudan, however, would take no denial 
His attendants forthwith placed the promised 
sum of gold in the knight’s mantle, seized the 
lady, and, having carried Sir Isumbras and his 
youngest son on shore, beat him unmercifully, 
and returned to the ship. 

Meanwhile the Soudan had ordered the lady 
to be crowned; but before he would marry her, 
he meant to conquer Europe. So he prepared 
to send her home, with orders that all men should 
obey her as their Queen. The lady, however, 
with many tears, besought that first she might 
say farewell to her husband. This was granted ; 
and Sir Isumbras, bruised and half dead, was 
brought to her. Embracing him fondly, she 
bade him never rest till he had sought her out 
and rescued her. Then she kissed him and her 


The Story of Sir Isumbras 315 

little son, and set sail for Africa. Sir Isumbras, 
quite bewildered by these last misfortunes, 
watched the vessel till it was out of sight, and 
then, taking the child by the hand, returned 
to the forest, hoping to find another way out. 
But they lost their way, and, after climbing a 
steep hill without being able to find any sign of 
a house or human being, they lay down on the 
ground, and tried to fall asleep. 

Next morning the unfortunate knight awoke 
to see the treasure given him by the Soudan 
carried off by an eagle, which had swooped 
down upon it, attracted by the scarlet cloth 
in which it was wrapped. Springing to his feet. 
Sir Isumbras pursued the bird for some way, 
hoping he would drop the heavy burden. The 
eagle, however, though flying slowly, proceeded 
on his course across the sea; and the knight 
returned with a heavy heart, for he had now no 
money wherewith to buy food for his son. But 
just as he came in sight of the place where 
he had left the child, he saw a unicorn bound 
from the forest and carry him off in its mouth. 
For a time Sir Isumbras lost all heart; but 
he remembered the lesson he had to learn, said 
his prayers, and proceeded on his journey alone. 


316 Stories of Early England 


II. SIR ISUMBRAS WINS HIS HAPPINESS 

As the knight proceeded on his way alone, he 
presently heard, amid the silence of the forest, 
the sound of a smith’s bellows. Hurrying in 
that direction he soon found a forge, which 
he entered, and asked humbly for a little food. 

The smith and his men looked coldly on 
the stranger. 

“ You seem as well able to work as we are,” 
said they. “ We have nothing to throw away in 
charity to such as you. Go and work for your 
meat.” 

Gladly would I do so,” said Sir Isumbras. 

So they took him at his word, and, finding 
him ready to do the hardest kind of labor, they 
gave him a good meal, and forthwith set him to 
Carry stones wherewith to build a house. 

All this he did without complaint, so humble 
had the once proud knight become. After a 
while they began to teach him to be a smith, 
and in learning all the mysteries of his new 
occupation seven long years passed quickly 
by. The knight was by this time a very clever 
srhith, and had employed his spare hours in forg¬ 
ing a complete suit of armor for himself. Every 
year he had heard from wayfarers of the success 



The Story of Sir Isumbras 317 

won by the heathen Saracens, and he was 
full of hope that the day might yet come on 
which he might strike a blow for the Christian 
faith, and avenge the loss of his fair wife. 

At length he heard that a great battle was to 
be fought between Christians and Saracens 
not far from the place where his smithy stood. 
Rising very early in the morning of the fight. 
Sir Isumbras dressed himself in the suit of 
armor, and, mounted on a rough horse, which 
had been used at the smithy for carrying coals, 
rode off to the conflict. When he arrived on 
the battlefield, both armies began to jest at him, 
and to make fun of his uncouth armor and 
steed; but Sir Isumbras took no notice, and 
gave his whole attention to the way in which the 
troops of the enemy were drawn up. 

When the fight began, the knight rode into 
the thickest ranks of the enemy, doing tremen¬ 
dous deeds with his gleaming sword; but after 
three desperate charges his horse was slain under 
him. A Christian chief who had marked his 
courage, rode forth to his rescue, and, carrying 
him off to a neighboring hill, presented him with 
a fine suit pf armor and a gallant war-horse. 
Thus well equipped, Sir Isumbras returned to 


318 Stories of Early England 

the fight with fresh courage. Seeing the Sou¬ 
dan himself on the slope of a hill, surrounded by 
his guard, he made a desperate rush upon him, 
and, though badly wounded, he never rested till 
he had slain him with his own hand. 

All that day the fight lasted, and at the end 
all the Christians agreed that it was owing to the 
stranger knight that the battle had been won. 
When all was over, knights and squires came 
to seek Sir Isumbras, and brought him before 
the King of that land. 

What is your name ? ” asked the King. 

“ Sire, I am a smith’s man, ” answered the 
knight. “ What will ye do with me ? ” 

The King was much puzzled, saying : “ Never 
before knew I a smith’s man to be so brave in 
war,” 

Then Sir Isumbras, weak from want of food 
and loss of blood, prayed to be allowed to rest 
and eat; to which the King gladly agreed, prom¬ 
ising that directly he recovered he would make 
him a knight. So he was put into good bands, 
and in a few days was quite recovered. But he 
took no advantage of the King’s promise, and 
having provided himself with a pilgrim’s “ scrip, ” 
or satchel, and ‘‘pike,” or staff, he took his way 


The Story of Sir Isumbras 319 

once more to the sea, and, embarking on board 
a merchant ship, set sail for the Holy Land, 

In the Holy Land Sir Isumbras passed seven 
more long years, visiting every hallowed spot^ and 
living a life of hardship and toil. Every night 
he slept in the open air ; his food was the scanty 
dole given him by charitable folk ; and his pil¬ 
grims cloak was all he had to cover him. 

But at length a great happiness came, to the 
once proud knight. One midnight, as he was 
sitting weeping for his sin by the side of a well 
close by Jerusalem, there appeared to him a 
bright angel, who brought him bread and wine, 
and said : “ Pilgrim, it will be well with you. 
The King of Heaven greets you. Forgiven is 

your sin.” . 

Directly Sir Isumbras had eaten and drunk, 
his strength came back to him just as when he 
was young and gay ; his heart too was gladdened ; 
but he was still bereft of his wife and. children, 
and as poor as ever ; and he had not been told 
by the angel what he should do next. So he 
wandered from country to country till he.arrived 
one day at a fine town, built round a fair castle, 
the owner of which, they told him, was a gentle 
queen, who day by day presented a golden florin 


320 Stories of Early England 

to every poor man who approached her gates, 
and for those who were in special need she 
was wont to give food and lodging inside the 
walls. 

Sir Isumbras presented himself in due course, 
and directly it was seen how thin and badly 
clothed he was, they brought him into the hall, 
where the rich Queen sat. Knights stood to 
serve her hand and foot, and all bowed down 
before her; but when Sir Isumbras entered in 
his rags the steward gave him at once a place of 
honor, saying : “The poor pilgrim shall sit above 
you all.” 

Quickly they brought forth meat and drink ; 
but the knight could eat nothing, and as he looked 
about him at the mirth and glee and happy faces 
his tears fell thick and fast. This soon attracted 
the attention of all the company, and the Queen, 
pitying his secret trouble, ordered a cushioned 
chair to be placed near the pilgrim, and began 
to talk to him about his long and painful pilgrim¬ 
age. But nothing could induce him to touch 
food ; and, sick at heart because of the memories 
of wife and children and the old days of happiness, 
he craved a little time for thought and meditation 
in which to gain control of himself again. So 


The Story of Sir Isumbras 321 

the Queen left him, declaring, however, that for 
the sake of her dead husband, or for love of him 
if he still lived, she was determined to give the 
pilgrim a home in the castle and a servant to 
attend on him. 

Fifteen years of toil on one side and sorrow 
on the other had so changed Sir Isumbras and his 
wife, that he never recognized her in this gentle 
Queen, nor had she any idea that the worn pil¬ 
grim was her gallant husband. But it was easy 
to see that, after the death of the Soudan, she 
would still be held in great honor by her Saracen 
subjects, who were disposed to look kindly upon 
all Christian pilgrims for her sake. 

In the Court of this rich lady Sir Isumbras, 
never guessing who his benefactress really was, 
quickly recovered his health and spirits,, and 
with them came the desire to take up knightly 
exercises, as of old. 

A grand tournament was proclaimed to be 
held under the windows of the castle, and, to the 
surprise of all, the pilgrim appeared in the dress 
of a knight, and overthrew in succession every 
one of the Saracen knights who appeared in the 
lists. Some were killed at the first stroke of his 
dreadful spear ; some escaped with broken bones, 


322 Stories of Early England 

or were thrown into the castle ditch ; and most 
saved themselves by headlong flight. 

A short time after these gallant adventures 
Sir Isumbras was out for a stroll in the neighbor¬ 
ing forest, when he noticed a large bird’s nest 
in a tree, from which something scarlet was 
hanging and waving in the wind. 

Much interested, he climbed the tree, and found, 
to his astonishment, his own scarlet mantle, in 
which was still wrapped the Soudan’s gold, car¬ 
ried off by the eagle many years before. He 
carried the treasure to his room, and concealed 
it under his bed ; but the sight of it had brought 
back the memories of his lost wife and children, 
and made him feel so sad that he began to weep , 
and lament, so that the whole Court wondered ; 
greatly at his altered countenance. The Queen . 
was especially curious as to the reason, but could 
only learn from the attendants that it had some¬ 
thing to do with a discovery found in a bird’s 
nest. For some time Sir Isumbras kept to his 
own room, but directly he began to go abroad 
again, the' Queen gave orders to her squires to 
search his chamber and bring the mysterious dis¬ 
covery to her apartment. This they did, and 
the sight of the scarlet and gold mantle at once 


The Story of Sir Isumbras 323 

made clear to the Queen the whole story. She 
kissed the cloak, almost fainting with joy, and 
bade them hasten to bring the pilgrim before 
her. A few words of explanation made the 
matter clear to both; they threw themselves 
into each other’s arms, and embraced with the 
greatest joy. 

Within a short time Sir Isumbras was crowned 
King, and a great feast was made in his honor. 
To this all his Saracen subjects gladly came, but 
when Sir Isumbras explained to them that he ex¬ 
pected that they would all give up their faith, 
and become Christians, they became very angry, 
and determined to depose their new-made King, 
and burn him alive. 

The neighboring princes joined them in their 
defiance, and, gathering a great army, they sent 
Sir Isumbras a challenge to come and fight. 

Sir Isumbras was perfectly ready for the con¬ 
flict. He called for his arms and his horse ; but 
when he rode out of the castle, he found that 
every man had deserted him, and that he must 
fight single-handed against all these foes. He 
knew that this meant certain death, so he took a 
very sad farewell of his Queen, saying: “ Madam, 
I have now to wish you good-day for evermore.” 


324 Stories of Early England 

But she replied, with spirit, that she cared 
not to live without him, and so would die with 
him. She bade him, therefore, dress her as a 
knight, and so, wearing armor and bearing spear 
and shield, she accompanied him to the battle. 
“ Against thirty thousand Saracens and more 
there came but these two.” It was impossible 
that they could withstand the charge of so numer¬ 
ous an emeny, and they were on the point of be¬ 
ing crushed, when three unknown knights made 
their appearance, and suddenly changed the for. 
tunes of the day. The first of these rode upon 
a lion, the second upon a leopard, the third upon 
a unicorn. At the first sight of these strange 
figures the Saracens turned tail, and fled. Biit 
they were quickly pursued, and thousands were 
left dead upon the field, killed by the claws of the 
lion or the leopard, by the horn of the uni¬ 
corn, or by the swords of their gallant young 
riders. 

When the day was won, you can imagine the 
joy of Sir Isumbras and his wife when they 
found that these wonderful young knights were 
their own three boys, who had been miraculously 
preserved by the wild beasts. In great happiness 
they returned to the city, where the penitent in- 


The Story of Sir Isumbras 325 

habitants were ready to do all their King bade 
them. 

Each of the three sons became kings of neigh¬ 
boring countries, whose sovereigns had been 
killed in the fight; and Sir Isumbras, having 
learnt his lesson of humility, lived happily for 
many long years. 

From an English M. S. of the sixteenth century. 


THE STORY OF THE HEIR OF LINNE 


T here lived long ago in the broad 
lands of bonny Scotland a worthy 
lord, who had an only son. And as 
he came to lie on his death-bed, he sent for the 
lad, and said: 

“ My son, too well I know that when I am 
dead and gone you will waste the money and 
the land that I shall leave you, and one day 
will come to poverty/’ 

The Heir of Linne, as the youth was called, 
began to say that he would be careful, and do 
all that he could to obey the wishes of his father, 
whom he loved so dearly ; but the old man bade 
him not make promises that he might be 
tempted to break, but only to assure him of one 
thing. 

“ Far away in the glen on the borders of our 
land,” said he very earnestly, “ stands a deserted 
cottage known as the Lonesome Lodge. Prom¬ 
ise me that even if you sell all else you have in 
the world, you will never part with this. Take 
326 


The Story of the Heir of Linne 327 

the key, and hang it round your neck, and re¬ 
member that in the day when all your friends 
turn their backs upon you, and you have no 
place to go to, it is my desire that you go to 
the Lonesome Lodge, and there you will find a 
friend in need.” 

This seemed a very strange saying to the 
young man, but, to satisfy his father, he hung 
the key round his neck ; and soon after the old 
man died. The Heir of Linne was now quite 
alone in the world, for his mother had died long 
since. For a time he lived very quietly and 
sadly; but after a while his friends began to 
visit him again, 'and they brought others with 
them, so that the Heir began to lead a very gay 
life. He wasted his money right and left in en¬ 
tertaining and in revelry ; he bought everything 
he wanted for himself ; and as for his friends, 
if they were only heard to admire a horse or a 
dog or a golden cup, it was at once presented to 
them. 

Ihit money cannot last for ever, and after a 
time his steward, John o’ Scales, came to the 
Heir, and told him there was no more left. 
Now, this John o’ Scales was known to be a 
very clever man, and to him the Heir left all 


328 Stories of Early England 

the care of his broad lands, never looking into 
his accounts or supervising him in any way. 
So when he came to his young master with a 
long face and a tale of empty money-bags, the 
Heir said quite cheerfully: “Then, John o’ 
Scales, you must put your wits to work, and 
get me some money as quickly as you can,” 
There was one way out of the difficulty, it 
appeared. John o’ Scales had a little moiiey of 
his own in hand, and would like to buy one of 
the outlying farms if his master chose to sell. 
The Heir never thought of finding out the true 
value of the land, but took the money, and spent 
it recklessly as before. The neighbors, how¬ 
ever, were heard to whisper that for every pound 
the steward paid his master, the land was well 
worth three. 

Presently that money was at end ; but what 
was easier than for the steward to buy another 
little farm .? And again the pockets of the Heir 
were filled. But this money was thrown away 
like the last, some of it in selfish pleasures, some 
of it in reckless gifts to friends. Then the Heir 
tried to win back his losses by gambling ; but, 
of course, that only made matters worse, until 
at last he became quite penniless. Then the 


The Story of the Heir of Linne 329 

young man went again to John o’ Scales, and 
told him he must sell some more land. But the 
steward, who had grown fat and insolent of late, 
informed him scornfully that not only had he 
already parted with every rood of ground, but 
that the very house in which he had been born 
now belonged to the steward ; but in an offhand 
kind of way he offered the young man a few 
pounds for the Lonesome Lodge, which, he said, 
was all now left of his father’s great estate. 
The Heir was just about to accept, when he felt 
the little key grow heavy as it lay on his heart, 
and he remembered his father’s words and the 
promise he had made. So he refused altogether 
to part with the Lonesome Lodge, although John 
o’ Scales even offered its full value, and then, in 
his determination to have the whole estate, more 
than the tumble-down place was worth. But 
the Heir kept fast to his word, especially as he 
now recalled how very true his father’s forebod¬ 
ings had been, since he had indeed lost both 
money and lands through his own folly. Then 
the steward, finding him unmoved in his deci¬ 
sion, reminded him spitefully that the house in 
which they stood was no longer his, and that the 
sooner he left it the better. 


330 Stories of Early England 

So the Heir hastened to leave his father’s 
house, and went away with empty pockets ; but 
he did not trouble himself much about that, for 
he had hosts of friends, who had lived with him 
for months at a time, and had borrowed his 
money freely, or used it as if it were their own. 
If they paid him back only the half of this, he 
would have enough to live on for many a year. 

But now that he was no longer the Lord of 
Linne, he found that a strange alteration had 
come over his friends. Some, indeed, appeared 
to give him a welcome at first ; but after a few 
days they got tired of him, and showed it so 
plainly that he was only too glad to go away. 
Others made the silliest excuses as to why they 
could not receive him into their houses. Some, 
when he called on them, were never at home ; 
and one and all declared that they had either re¬ 
paid the money they had formely borrowed from 
him, or else had never borrowed it at all. At 
last, when his clothes had grown very shabby, 
one of these former friends pretended to take 
him for a beggar, sent a sixpence out to him, 
and bade him go away. 

So the day came when he was forced to say 
to himself that he had not one true friend in all 


The Story of the Heir of Linne 331 

the world ; and then he remembered his father’s 
words about the Lonesome Lodge, where he 
was one day to find a friend in need. 

Sad at heart and heavy of foot, the Heir of 
Linne set out to find his last bit of property, 
since there at least he hoped to have a roof over 
his head. As for the friend in need, he was not 
very hopeful about that. 

The Lonesome Lodge lay in a deep glen far 
away across a wild moorland. Very gloomy it 
looked in the dusk of an autumn day, when the 
young man came in sight of it. The walls were 
of dull gray stone and the roof was green with 
moss. The two little windows were almost hid¬ 
den by dust and cobwebs and by the branch of a 
yewtree which grew right across them, and the 
grass grew on the path right over the door- 
stone. 

‘‘This is cold comfort!” said the Heir of 
Linne, as he turned the key in the lock and en¬ 
tered the gloomy chamber. It was perfectly 
bare, and nearly dark; and the only furniture 
was a three-legged stool, on which the unhappy 
youth took his seat, and gazed sadly down at the 
empty fireplace. Presently it grew so chill that 
the Heir took flint and tender from his pocket, 


332 Stories of Early England 

and, having gathered a few sticks together from 
outside, tried to light a fire. But the hearth was 
damp, and the sticks would not burn, except for 
a few minutes, during which they blazed up 
enough to let him see this strange inscription 
written plainly across the hearthstone in white 
letters: ** To the graceless youth who has spent 
all and brought himself to penury. A cold 
hearthstone is now the only friend thou hast left. 
Now let it hide thy disgrace and end thy shame 
and sorrow.” 

Then the fire flickered out, and it seemed 
to the young man as though all hope went with 
it. For it was as if his dead father’s voice 
spoke to him reproachfully from the grave, and, 
in an agony of repentance, he threw himself 
op his knees upon the cold gray stone, and 
began to weep for his foolish, wasted life. The 
moon rose, and, shining in through the dusty 
window, filled the little room with a bright, 
soft radiance. At length the Heir, worn out 
with grief,, was about to rise, when he saw 
that his movement had displaced the stone, 
which was slowly tipping up on edge. The 
moonlight seemed to fall directly on the spot, 
and was so brilliant that he could see just inside 


The Story of the Heir of Linne 333 

the cavity a little packet, which contained a 
strip of parchment and a golden key. The 
parchment told him of a secret door in the wall 
beside the fire, which the key would unlock, and 
on opening this he found therein three small 
chests, so heavy that he could not lift them. 
But he managed to get them open, and found to 
his astonishment that the first was full of silver, 
and the other two of gold pieces; while on the 
top of one of them was written : With these, 
my son, I set thee once more upon thy feet. 
Amend thy life, and leave off thy follies, for 
unless thou hast learnt wisdom thou wilt have 
but a cold hearthstone after all.” 

“ Amen, indeed,” said the Heir of Linne very 
gravely and quietly; *so let it be, unless I 
amend. And here I make my vow that this 
lesson shall last me as long as I live.” 

After a while he began to consider how he 
had best act, and, having thought of a plan, 
proceeded at once to carry it out. He filled his 
pockets full of gold, and, having carefully hidden 
the chests in the secret cupboard, he hung 
the key of the hiding-place with that of the 
Lodge round his neck, and, leaving that lone¬ 
some spot, set off at a good pace to the house 


334 Stories of Early England 

that had once been his. When he arrived, 
supper had just been served, and he found 
it very hard to gain admittance. When at 
he was allowed to enter, he found a great feast 
going on, for John o’ Scales was entertaining 
both new friends and old neighbors, and he and 
his fat wife Joan sat together at the head 
of the long table. The Heir looked round, and 
soon recognized several of his old friends, so 
called, who were now revelling at his steward’s 
board; but his attention was soon recalled 
to John o’ Scales, who looked proudly down 
from his high place, and pretended not to know 
his old master’s son in his ragged, travel-stained 
clothes. fci 

“Who is this sturdy beggar,” said he, “whose 
coming disturbs our meal ” 

“ You know me well,” said the Heir of Linne, 
“ and I have come for old sake’s sake to ask you 
to lend me forty pence.” 

“ Be off, you vagabond ! ” cried John o’ Scales. 
“A curse be on my head if I lend you one 
penny.” 

Then the Heir turned to the fat wife, Joan, 
saying: “ Good madam, I pray you give me 
something in the name of charity.” 


The Story of the Heir of Linne 335 

“ Be off, you spendthrift,” she answered ; ^^you 
will get nothing from me.” 

The Heir of Linne turned, as if he would go 
away discouraged, when an old farrher sitting 
near the bottom of the table got up, saying: 

“ Stay, thou Heir of Linne. Thou wast a right 
good lord to us once upon a time, and thy father 
before thee. Never did I know thee turn thy 
face from any poor man, and so I will lend thee 
forty pence, and forty more to that^ if need be. 
As for thee, John o’ Scales, thou mightst at least 
ask him to sit down with thee at supper, for thou 
hast gotten his land, and a' right good bargin 
thou hast made on’t.” 

These last words put Jbhn o’ Scales in a tre¬ 
mendous rage, for he knew it was true, and that 
others knew it also. He banged his hand on the 
table, till the wine splashed frbm the silver cup 
that had belonged to the' Lord of Linne, and 
cried : 

Now, a curse on my head if I did not lose, 
and lose heavily, by that bargain ! ” Then as his 
guests looked at each other, and smiled, he 
roared : ’ Tis so, and I will prove it too. See 

here, you Heir of Linne, before this good com¬ 
pany I tell you that you shall have your house 


336 Stories of Early England 

and lands back again, if you will pay down a 
hundred pounds less than I gave you for 
it.” 

He thought this a fairly safe offer to make to 
the penniless heir, and what was his astonish¬ 
ment when the young man looked round at the 
staring company, and took a bag of gold from 
each pocket. 

“ You have heard his offer,” said the Heir of 
Linne ; “ I call you all to witness.” And with 
these words he flung upon the table the silver 
luckpenny by which bargains were sealed. “ I 
hold you to your word,” said he, “ and here, good 
John, is your money.” 

Slowly and carefully he counted it out before 
. the astounded steward, and pushing it towards 
him, said : “ The gold is thine and the land is 
mine, and now am I once more Lord of Linne. 
But I will deal better with thee than thy deserts, 
for here is thy hundred pounds into the bargain. 
But take thyself and thy wife out of my house as 
soon as may be.” Then, turning to the farmer: 

. “ For you, good fellow,” said he, you would 
‘..have lent me forty pence, so here I give thee 
.forty pounds, and make thee keeper of all my 
woods and forests. And hei'ewith I promise to 


The Story of the Heir of Linne 337 

be a better lord to all of you than ever I was in 
the old days.” 

Then all the tenants who were present shouted 
with joy as they drank the health of their young 
master; while John o’ Scales and his fat wife 
slunk away, unpitied and unnoticed by all. 

And from that time forth all went well with 
the fortunes of the Heir of Linne. 

From Percys Reliques^"^ a collection of old ballads. 
Date unknown. 


V 


■;r:' ' 


* • 


I » 




\ 


. « 


If . A . A 

. ■. ■ ■ '.., . r'" 


r . , 


*/• . 


* ^ i . rt 


"1 • • • '> 

* «> • I 


■ *. ‘f 


i. 


* I 


%* - A 


A V I # 
i > '- / ? 


f y •■. • 

J ■’ir> *’f** '• 5* .:i .s.’<%4 

^ AW -4 i • V'’*' < W ^' * A./ ^ i ^ • A , 

tiilr'r)' i;i.; 

.Ik vd 

iul-rr 1/07/ 


^..«4 •> 


j* 

*i 

' i; 


♦-V <»« 


<*\1 


• %'A k 


- J 




Vi^ ^ ywVi*. 4 . -^v-- 


; 


i 


$ 


» 


\ 


» 





*1 





♦ 

» 

< . I 

• • ^ 

« 






PRONOUNCING INDEX 


Achar, v-kar. Egbright, Eg-bret. 

Alphege, Al-fedj. Elphin, Elfin. , 

Angys, An-gus. Ethandune, Ethan-doon 

Ar dour, Ar-door. 

Ascapard, As-ca-pard. Faron, Far-g. 

Aurilis-Brosias, Or-ilis-bro- Felice. Fa-le-se. 


si-as. 

Avalon, Av-a-lg. 

Bach, Bak. 

Bayiere, Bi-e-yair. 

Bede, Bed. 

Bedivere, Bed-e-ver. 
Bellisande, Belli.sand-e. 
Benoist, Ben-wor. 
Beowulf, Ba-o-wolf. 
Bernlak, Bern-lak. 
Birkabeyn, Birk-er-ban. 
Breca, Brek-e. 
Brihtnoth, Bret-not. 
Broiefort, Bru-or-fort. 

B rubier, Bru-e-yere. 

Caedmon, Ked-mon. 
Caerleon, Kar-len. , 
Caraheu, Kara-hew. 
Caridwen, Karid-wen. 
Cavall, Kav-all. 
Chauailgne, Coo-al-na. 
Cleges, Cledjes. 
Courtain, Cur-tan. 
Cruse ward, Cruse-ward. 
Cuchulain, Cuch-cul-in. 
Cyneherd, Kine-herd, 
Cynewulf, Kine-wolf. 

Da Re, Dara. 


Fortager, For-tadj-er. 

Gautier, G6-te-a. 
Gawayne, Ga-wa-en. 
Gloriande, Gloriand-e. 
Godrich, Good-rek. 
Godard, Good-ard. 
Guthrum, Gut-rum. 
Gwion, Gwe-on. 

Gwyn, Gwin. 

Gwythir, Gwith-ir. 
Gwyddno, Gwith-no. 

Havelok, Hav-lok. , 
Heorot, Heorot. 
Hrothgar, Rot-gar. 
Hrunting, Rfint-ing. 

Idwel, Id-wel. 
Isumbras, I-sum-bra. 

JosiAN, Jos-i-an. 

Joure, Joore. 

Kai, Ka-e. 

Kilhugh, Kil-hew. 
Kynon, Kin-non. 

Lir, Ler. 

Llevelys, Thlev-el-is. 


340 


Pronouncing Index 

LunecI, Lin ed. Papiij.on, Pa-pe-yo. 

I.ynne, Lin. Penlis, I’en-le. 

MABiNOGioN, Mab-in-og-yon. K<jhau.n’I', Rohaunt. 

Mac Roth, Mac-Rot. 

Maelgwn, Mile-goon. 

Mambraunt, Mam-brant.' 

Meaux, Mo. 

Meav, Mav. 

Midgard, Midgard. 

Morgradour, Mor-grad-oor. 

Modron, Mood-ron. 

Moyne, Moin. 

Murdour, Mur-door. 

Naymes, Naim. 

Nith, Net. 

Ohthere, Other. 

Olwen, Ol-wen. 

Owain, O-win. 

,1 

(These words do not pretend to follow in all points the 
original pronunciation; the equivalent sounds are merely' 
those to which modern English lips can most easily approx¬ 
imate. Key to pronunciation: 8, i, 6, <1, as in late, me, 

fine, note, mute; S, as in bah; q=ong, with ng silent ;,fe- 
(final), as er, with r silent.) ’ 


Sadonne, JSaydon. 

Scef, Schef. 

Scyld, Sheld. 

Sigbright, .Seg-bret. 
Soudan, Soo-dan. 

Taliesi.y, Tal-yes-sin. 
Tegid, Teg-id. 
Truncefyce, Troonce-fice. 

Ubbe, Ubb-e. 

Uther, U-ther. 

VoEL, Voyl. 

WiGLAF, Weg-laf. 




. i 


..i 


c 




• 





-I- 


• > 




Ut 





'vr/rViii; 

■ "' ’7'® V 




t «: 




»>■ ■■ .' ' ■ ^2 V, jV ■ 




*1' 

fe’;., j 4 


H. - 

V* ^ . i 

4 

* • 

n' 

1 \ 


V ' 

■*• 'V. 

A,-:. ■ 





« < 


f'. 



*! I • ^ I 











.V'A' \f, 


.w. '.. ‘ .^>-' 


-»-»-k 



[>//W 




i'C^'. ,C 



If 


I » 







;'.fH .. 

!^if ' •- 

.v.-* ■■ '■•'T 

V r. • -X ' ^ * «i • I 


F V » ^ V 

Wn:'-':'. V 


K ’ /ji f J '-. • •’ 


.f'V.V- '■.-.-/I' 

i r . ^' /■ .. * !'■ 





















4 






library of 



DOOSOfit, 








































































